


Legacy of Chaos II: Reckoning

by xax



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Fisting, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Centaurs, Come Inflation, Deepthroating, M/M, Orcs, Other, Piercings, Recreational Drug Use, Transformation, Trolls, Video & Computer Games, Weird Animal Dicks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-18
Packaged: 2018-08-29 06:04:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 42,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8478142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xax/pseuds/xax
Summary: Nick really ought to be preparing for heading to college, but there's this one video game he downloaded that keeps drawing all his attention...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> in which i tackle some cliches, both in the "shlock videogame fantasy" sense and the "magic transformation" sense. uh this is kind of a riff off of a furry cliche, which is stories w/ the plot of "author insert is magically transformed into their fursona and everybody for some reason doesn't notice".
> 
> mostly i wanted to talk about video game glitches tho
> 
> putting a 'mind control' tag on seemed too much, but there is the kind of lowkey "don't notice yr dorm mate is a giant orc" mind control happening here, which maybe steps up a little into "retroactively remember some false memories wrt orcs and centaurs and junk" kinda stuff in a later part.

Nick picked the game up a week before heading off to college. Well, "picked up" might not have been correct — all the worrying about moving out, over to the big city, had him among other things compulsively cleaning and arranging all his stuff. He was an adult now, and that meant having adult responsibilities, like keeping a clean living space.

His cleaning spree quickly degenerated into organizing the files on his ancient external HD. He had piles of old games in whatever folders they'd been downloaded into, and by the fifth hour of organizing he'd unearthed all sorts of stuff that he couldn't even remember downloading. He _might have_ booted the game up and then spent the next week deep in it, with his actual move-out mostly punctuation between loading up all the files on his laptop so he didn't lose his progress. That might have been a thing, which he did. The four-hour drive over, in his mom's car, was mostly him thinking about which dungeon to explore next.

So "Legacy of Chaos II: Reckoning" looked to be a few years old, and asked for a play CD despite running fine without one. It might've been modded, on top of being cracked? There was a .nfo in the directory with the executable, but it was just inscruitable ASCII art.

It was _good_ , was the thing. He'd expected some shlocky fantasy junk, and — okay, it was shlocky fantasy junk, but it was _fun_. There was some epic story about ancient evil sealed away and slowly waking that he completely ignored, and a whole bunch of lore about the pseudo-medieval kingdoms being overrun (also by evil), but the game started before all that, with just a big open world, and he kept steering away from the big obvious "plot here" markers.

The character generation screen had some basic race / class / build sliders, except then there were "advanced" options that opened up five pages of tweaks, from body type to brow asperity. He'd rolled his eyes; it seemed kind of a waste, since after an hour of face customizing you probably spent the rest of the game staring at the back of whatever helmet you were wearing. Two full pages of facial options seemed like overkill.

Still, he'd put together a huge orc, with all the height and muscle sliders pushed all the way to the max. His character had a blindingly orange mohawk and dusky green-brown hide, and came with a warhammer the size of his entire body. He'd wanted a kind of brawler character, a good damage soak. And, honestly... he'd wanted a character that was _hot_. The character creator came with the starting equipment, but it let him take it off, stripping his orc down to the loincloth that was fused to its nude model. The graphics were a little outdated, but it was recent enough to have shiny-skin, like his orc was stripped down and oiled up, biceps flexing as he held his huge warhammer over his shoulder. His character was just about as far from his own gawky self as he could imagine.

Scrolling down the lists of sliders, near the end, there had been a list of ones marked, simply, "Fitness": "Fitness (1)", "Fitness (2)", and so on, like even the devs had given up on listing "Rib concavity" or "Philtrum slope" or whatever. He couldn't even tell what they did — maybe one of them slightly changed the shape of his shoulders? But "Fitness (4)" was the jackpot: he slid it a little left, then a little right, and then spun the model around to the front to see if he could tell any difference.

The bulge in the orc's loincloth was a lot more prominent. Eyes wide, he moved the slider again: to the left reduced the bulge between his thighs to a flat plane of muscle, and the other direction... his cock swelled from a slight bulge, to a distended pouch, to something that nearly broke the model mesh. The fabric-animated loincloth draping down to his knees exploded outward, half-clipping through the bulge, and underneath there was just a darker fabric texture, the texture stretched out like the wrapping was too small. Nick stared, looking away from the screen as if to check no one was watching before he shoved the slider all the way to the right: the orc's absurdly gigantic bulge filled the space between the orc's thighs, wobbling and clipping on his walk animation, like they'd used the same jiggle bones they had for breasts. Spinning the model around, he could see a sliver of the orc's bulge between his thighs, sagging and bloated. Nick swallowed, face hot, aware of his own cock thickening slowly as he tipped the camera down, sliding it until the orc's crotch filled the view. That had to be — a joke the devs put in and forgot about when they just dumped all the model params for the character creator. He kept the slider pushed as far right as he could go.

The actual game was pretty good, too.

Most NPCs came halfway up to his chest, and he was even a head taller than the other orcs. Running around nearly-naked made the NPCs not talk to him — persuasion penalty for nudity — and it turned out he was getting massacred in combat without armor, so he had to go and get himself some clothes anyway, which flattened his character's bulge into a low mound, painted across the front of his trousers.

He was all ready to treat the game as basically softcore porn — get to the Arena area and wrestle a bunch of muscular, nearly-naked monsters — except then he got sidetracked doing some bizarre magic questline about hooking together an ancient thaumic engine, and then there was this whole thing about moving the parts around to ostensibly stimulate the ley lines but really (he figured) as an excuse to drop a bunch of half-finished debug tools into the game world. He ended up flattening part of the nearby landscape before he figured out the puzzle, and by that time he'd spent his first dozen levels on intelligence near-exclusively, so he could translate all the old tomes. So his brawler orc ended up being a master thaumaturgist and artificer and was still roughly level 1 at hitting things.

It didn't hurt that he found some mage armor that was just a skimpy toga, leaving half his chest and back bare, and with — when he found out that wearing _one_ piece of clothing was enough to stop all the NPCs from complaining about his nudity — the hem just barely covering his bulge, fabric simulation stretching in angular tris over the truely hypertrophic bulge of his cock.

The game let him turn on auto-navigation between locations, too, so he could spin the camera around and watch. He didn't jerk off to it while actually _playing_ , okay. Just— in his dark room, watching his orc's muscles flex in the run animations, watching the fabric-animated skirt of his toga crinkle up and reveal slivers of the orc's inner thigh, little snatches of his loincloth when he ran uphill. He leaned in close, one hand rubbing against his chubbing cock through his jeans, grinding the heel of his palm against his dick until it hurt, his breath coming fast.

Some of the NPCs had "romance" options, but — clearly the devs had put some thought in 'sexualities', and the only gay guys were in the big, seedy town of corruption, obnoxious fat guys in top hats that seemed more of a joke than anything else. Most of the NPCs didn't have any depth anyway — apparently (from checking the manual .pdf) there were "companion" characters, but the few he'd met in-game were all gated by quest progression — it was too bad, because he wouldn't mind seeing some of them naked. Or, at least, as naked as the game engine could manage. He mostly resigned himself to clicking through the same dozen dialog trees, with minor species / race / class / location variations, and not really having any of the "deep character interaction" that was bullet-pointed in the manual.

The game was glitchy as hell, too. It started him off in what was clearly supposed to be a walled-off newbie area, except one of those walls was the ocean shore, and he just... walked along the beach, between the mountain and the ocean, and eventually ended up in an area where some big questgiver NPC in the first town was thanking him again for saving her life. So that was a thing. As it turned out, most of the quest barricades were as easily-circumvented. There was this big swamp area, the Nightwoods, that looked neat but was gated by some big quest line that sounded boring as hell ("servants of evil had been spotted in the swamp, so you have to collect twenty sabotaged devices in the forest, and then" — and he could not click "Ignore" on that quest fast enough), so he turned around from the pass between the areas and hugged the mountainside, and it wasn't long before he found a few clusters of rocks that he could jump between all the way up to the tops of the mountains, putting him in the weird, minimally-decorated landscape between the areas, and from there it was really easy to just walk down the mountain on the other side. The barricades didn't even have an other side; he could clip right inside them and walk through them back out. He got really good at inching over mountains, or hopping over gatehouses by the weird clipping at the seams of their models, or otherwise messing with whatever other obstruction the devs had put down to gate progress.

All the sequence breaking didn't _seem_ to have any consequences, aside from (he guessed) a bunch of plot triggers not flipping, so he'd have cities full of people, half of which wouldn't stop talking about the latest development in the **Seige On Skyheart** , which he'd never even heard of, and the others had suspiciously blank conversation trees, with only the handful of dialog options that every NPC in the game had. But the game really opened up — well, he assumed; he had no clue what the progression was _supposed_ to look like, and there was no way he was gonna trek halfway across the continent back to the starting areas to run through some level 10 main plotline quest to "properly" unlock whatever was supposed to be next. None of the PC houses seemed to care about game states, so he just set up inside whichever house showed up on the minimap as a respawn point and kept advancing further, doing the occasional bizarre magic puzzle quest but mostly just exploring the world.

A week was just enough time to get really into it; he'd started keeping some loose-leaf paper of scratched-out maps, all about how the areas hooked together in the parts you weren't supposed to get to, and then the whole college thing happened, and it was honestly pretty annoying, backing his saves up and moving a few boxes into his new dorm, hugging his parents goodbye, and then he was right back into exploring the world before their car had even pulled out from the parking lot below. The dorm was small and divided neatly into two symmetrical halves; his roommate was apparently a jock or something. Nick kind of nodded at his roommate when he came in, still focused on his game. He put some pants on. He meant, on his character. Staring at his orc's flexing ass seemed like it would be a little more embarassing with someone watching him.

In the game, he was mapping out the very edges of the game world. Up north there was a desert that wrapped endlessly around, and after passing the same oasis ten times he'd gotten bored of the sand devils (at day) and trolls (at night; they froze into big stone statues the second dawn hit) and decided to go elsewhere. West there were mountains full of wyverns, and after jumping up them he'd realized they just _ended_ , the rocky walls eggshell-thin when he flipped the camera over the final ridge and realized there was literally nothing out there. So he tried south, in the ocean, and: jackpot. There was an island chain off the edge of the map, and it was littered with underwater caves — maybe a half-finished area, or just one that had some other way of getting there aside from water-walking over the coral reefs.

All the armor models had wet, shiny versions that clung to the character's skin, making his skin gleam golden, and making his already-skimpy armor even more like softcore orc porn. There were huge sahagins, with heads like sharks, complete with a dorsal fin, shoulders nearly humpbacked with the smooth curve of muscle that was their necks. They were almost as big as his enormous orc and just as musclebound, hide all green and yellow scales, darker green fins like tufts of hair across their forearms and chest, branching on their calves and at the tip of their tail, in an enormous two-fin tip. They had horns — or maybe it was like a laurel-leaf crown — of pink coral, branching spars wrapping around their heads. They were naked — well, since they were monsters, after all — with rippling muscles across their stomachs, legs spread to make room for the thick tail that continued out from their ass. He fought a few of them, and that ended with him leaning close to the screen, breathing hard, one hand on the keyboard and the other shoved down the front of his shorts, clenching around his dick. His roommate had left at some point. He wasn't completely unaware of the world outside the game.

He had to pause the game, lie back on his bed, and jerk off — it only took a few strokes before he came, squirting across his stomach. He thought about a swarm of them surrounding his orc, tearing his clothes off, gigantic cocks jutting from their crotches, drooling as they gangbanged him in ankle-deep water, leaving him fucked-open and coated in monster jizz, the orc's own massive cock sluggishly spurting his load into the cloudy water. So he was really glad his roommate had ducked out just as soon as he entered, and didn't seem like he was coming back soon.

It was a _really good game_.

But, two days later: the way it worked was most monsters used the same NPC system as the _actual_ NPCs, only with their dislike for the player turned up way, way high, so they were constantly hostile. He found this out on accident, after some weirdness with a cave full of bandits who would yell insults at him but were otherwise not hostile, and after that it was a simple thing to brew up some potions of Charisma to buff his stats enough that the wildlife stopped attacking him. The generic wolves ended up having the generic NPC dialog about locale-specific features, and he could ask them for directions to the nearest town; it was pretty funny.

He got pulled out of the game by his roommate — Chad? Brad? Bill? — tapping his shoulder. "Hey, we've got orientation, you gonna go?" and oh, right, he had obligations outside the game. College. Only a few days until classes started.

He nodded, closed out the game for now, but honestly — mostly he nodded through the orientation, still thinking about that latest glitch. Mobs seemed to have pretty shallow dialog pools, and it wasn't like there were any places in the game that he couldn't get through from mob difficulty, but... But it occurred to him he could go back to the sahagin cave, just hang out with the sahagin. See if they had any interesting dialog. He had to remind himself not to focus too much about fantasizing about him — his orc — getting gangbanged by sahagin, when he was supposed to listen to a staff member talk about his meal card and the facility hours.

He headed back to the cave right after the orientation. And, honestly, it was pretty disappointing. Most mobs had generic dialog, and a few were so bugged out he couldn't even talk to them. The sahagins — while still really hot — were more of the same. Disappointing, but not unexpected.

Except then, on his way around a tidal cave, he noticed a flooded pathway at the bottom of a pool he'd completely missed before. It showed up on his minimap before he noticed it, actually: an exit to [UNDERGROUND AREA] in the middle of a deep tide pool, and that got him to take a closer look.

[UNDERGROUND AREA] ended up being another sahagin cave, only with more glowing crystals. The path wound underwater, fading from tropical blue to a murky purple, and then he emerged in an underground sea cave, black water lapping at an abyssal coast. It was pretty cool. More importantly, there were "corrupted sahagin", which for all the game's talk about evil and corruption were the first corrupted mobs he'd seen. Probably whoever wrote the area flags just assumed by the time the player got here — if they were even ever supposed to get here — they'd gotten all the important main-quest triggers flipped.

The corrupted sahagin were — hotter. Bigger and more muscular. Their green-and-yellow color scheme had gotten swapped out for blue-and-purple, and they had ropy veins of glowing blue across their faces and chests, in thick lines down their cartoonishly exaggerated arms. Their eyes glowed purple-black, wisps of energy billowing out behind them. Their coral horns were the same purple-black, with brilliant blue splotches. And their fins had been mostly replaced with weird crystal clusters, the same brilliantly glowing blue as their veins — craggy lines from the top of their heads down their back, coating their dorsal fin in clumps, more running down all the way to their tails. Their outer thighs were encrusted with crystal shards, glowing veins branching in to their crotch, and with the texture fidelity being what it was it wasn't hard to imagine the discolored region in the center was a big slit, ready to gape open and reveal their monster cocks.

The actual area was some massive ancient ruin — a corrupted area, he assumed — all full of weird demonic architecture, with a winding path through the ruins that ended in a strange little domed altar, with an immense barred gate that just opened into blackness. Bizarrely, like the inexplicable cherry on top of the whole area, it was flagged as a PC dwelling. It was possible there were quest triggers he was missing, but there was just nothing he could really do there. But, on reflection, he decided it didn't really matter _where_ he had his alchemy system (and beehive, and loom, and enchanting table... he'd collected a lot of crafting junk in his way through the game), and being able to oogle the corrupted sahagin was better than the perks of any other dwelling he'd come across in-game so far.

Moving took a while — teleport back to his old base, lift as much furniture as he could carry, swig all the charisma potions he had, teleport to the weird ruin, chat up all the sahagin to make him need less potions next time, drop everything, repeat — and it took him two rounds to realize one of the sahagin actually had a unique name. The game was pretty bad about that kind of thing; a bunch of townspeople had names, but bandits were just generic "bandit", and the same went for most mobs. The sahagin in question — uh, "Ma'ilele", according to the UI box — shared the same model as the rest of the corrupted sahagin, but he was blown up, like 120% the size, so that he was even taller than his orc. He hadn't really noticed.

That sahagin's dialog tree — maybe it was just wishful thinking, but he seemed at least marginally more interesting to talk to than most NPCs. He liked phuka shells (for their iridescent color) and otters (for their wiggling tails), and it was kind of... cute, to see the looming monster talking about that. A gift from whoever'd programmed the random interest generator for generic NPCs. He charmed his way up into Ma'ilele's good graces, beyond the buffer his ungodly Charisma boost gave him, and it was — he stared at the lines of canned flirts his character was exchanging, flushing less at the lines themselves than the story of how it could be, some orc adventurer falling into a sahagin village and charming the, what, chief? Until maybe they'd spend the night together, the orc pinned for the first time under the sahagin's huge bulk, clawed hands slowly stripping his armor off until they were both naked —

But he shook his head, sitting back with a jolt, and the scene receded back into two blocky models gesticulating at each other, shifting iconographs in speech bubbles over their heads. The sahagin had a heart in its. His nose had nearly been pressed against the laptop screen. It was kind of embarassing, maybe, or dumb, but— whatever. It wasn't like he was the only person to project weird porn and/or relationship fantasies onto video game characters.

Then the "romance" option popped up in the dialog select. He just stared: he could feel his face heat up, like the game character was really hitting on him. He scoffed at all those romance options in games, but... well, more than half of that was just because nearly none of them were _gay_. With some huge sahagin monster hitting on him, he could see the appeal.

He unloaded his inventory of junk into giving gifts, including some phuka shells — they were trash crafting mats — that gave him a solid 20 point boost each, and then bam, maxed out romance bar, they were Dating. A flurry of hearts surrounded them both, and like most effects in the game it left both their models glitched out, his orc briefly red-and-purple before his texture snapped back — the sahagin with its arm and a chunky triangular region of its chest painted with striped lines, and that stayed even as the heart cloud faded out into a single status icon floating over the sahagin's head, the same place the buff/debuff icons showed up.

So then that made the "sleep with" action available and of course he had to try that immediately. Like — yeah, yeah, it was probably just a fade-to-black with some moaning, or at best his orc shirtless. Whatever. He clicked it and the screen faded to black, briefly vindicating him — except then it faded back in. They were back in the shrine he'd just set as his home, on the portable bedroll, and Ma'ilele was straddling him, his glitched-out arm texture wildly warping with impossible parallax every time his animation cycle changed. Nick leaned in closer, eyes wide, and the camera cut forward: his orc with his top armor removed, shirtless, the sahagin's huge claws digging into his chest (well, partially clipping through, but forgive him a little interpretation). The sahagin reached down, hand over the garguantuan bulge of his orc's cock, and things faded to black again. Nick was hard in his jeans, free hand palming against his dick. Even if that was it — a short little softcore scene was so much more than he'd expected.

Then the scene faded back in again, and his orc was naked. That was his _dick_. Not just the loincloth-mesh of the naked model: his cock was pressed against his chest, exactly as huge as his bulge implied, with the shiny head sandwitched between his pecs. Nick felt his jaw drop. This was— there was no way— the game _had_ to be cracked, and there was one of those weird nude mods added. No way was this a for real part of the game. Meanwhile, on-screen, the sahagin was stroking him off, clawed hand not quite touching his cock. He ground forward, and then the camera's pan let him see the _sahagin's_ cock — cocks. Which— no, there was just no way. Even the most exhaustive nude mod wouldn't have added models with dicks for every single enemy in the game. But still: on screen they were rutting together, the sahagin's twin cocks bracketing his orc's monster, the sahagin's claws pinning his orc's shoulders back, the orc's hands on the sahagin's waist. Nick glanced away, feeling like he was gonna get caught — watching the sudden inexplicable orc porn his video game had turned into — and then, like a magnetic pull, back to the scene unfolding in-game.

Except then their movement stuttered, jerked forward. The textures everywhere wobbled and streaked, the sahagin's skin texture just repeating bars, picking up brilliant pink error pixels, before the scene exploded, geometry warped to incoherency for a fraction of a second before it crashed to desktop.

Nick _yelled_ , an automatic "What?!", and opened it back up, only for it to crash again before even getting past the intro loading screen. He tried again, and then again, with the same result every time. He groaned, wiping his hand across his face, suddenly struck by how — weird? Weird was probably a good word — this was. Him trying desperately to keep playing his _unexpectedly pornographic_ fantasy game, just so he could watch a bunch of models with mangled textures fuck. Whatever, he thought, with a sudden resolve. It was evening already; he could see if he could stop it from crashing tomorrow.

Like the universe was answering his resolve, the door to his dorm crashed open. And, maybe after all it was a good thing the game crashed, or else his roommate (they'd introduced themselves, but Nick couldn't remember the guy's name for the life of him. Brad? Bill? Phil?) would've caught him jerking off to video game monster porn. "Oh, hey, sup," Probably Brad said.

Probably Brad was absolutely a jock, by the way. Nearly the archetypal example, if you asked Nick. They'd been living together for three days now, and even though Nick hasn't really been paying attention he'd never seen his roommate wearing something aside from baggy mesh shorts and a loose a-shirt, sometimes with a backwards baseball cap on.

"So there's a party down on the row," Probably Brad said, jerking his thumb behind him, like Nick could see the few blocks down. "You, uh, wanna come with?"

Nick didn't actually want to spend time with anyone, including/especially Probably Brad, but — it was college. He should push himself. Live a little. "Sure," he said.

* * *

Living a little turned out to be a huge mistake. So he went with Probably Brad, out from the dorms and down the street, and it turned out the street at the edge of campus lined with frat houses hit the freeway and kind of exploded into a mess of converted grain-processing factories, and it was _there_ where the party was. Probably Brad led him up the steps to some monolithic concrete building, and the inside was a riot, packed so tight they swam through a sea of other people.

There was pounding music, so loud he couldn't identify anything other than the bassline, and people yelling to be heard over the music. The inside was boiling hot. Nick expected to be able to see the heat rippling up, like each person was a lit candle, heat like smoke wafting up and forming a murky fog at mezzanine height. He figured — people, what, "mingled"? Was he supposed to just walk up to some stranger and say hi? That would be hard, over the pounding music. His entire body was resonating in time with the bass. There were a bunch of rings of people, four or a dozen or anywhere in between, and he kind of got the impression they were talking to each other...?

The inside was all big white rooms with uneven plaster walls, the — doorways? passages? — between each one a kind of low, short hallway. Some of them were stairways: up to a partial second floor, rough wooden planks sunk into the wall.

He and Probably Brad had split apart — or rather, Probably Brad had waved at some people through the crowd and then surged away, leaving Nick on his own. He just kind of — walked around for a while, loitering in each room until it felt like it was getting awkward, and then moved on, until he'd gone in a big circuit.

Eventually he ran into Probably Brad again, in a circle of people, and kind of waved.

"HEY MAN," Probably Brad yelled.

"I THINK I'M GONNA GO," he yelled over the music, and Probably Brad tipped his head, cupping an ear. "I SAID, I'M GOING TO HEAD BACK!" he yelled again.

Probably Brad raised his cup. "SOUNDS COOL MAN" he said, or at least that was what it kind of sounded like.

Nick waded through the crowd, finally passing back through the low plastered corridor and out into the hallway, and from there outside — with each passage damping the music behind him, and the feverish heat, and the general sense of _people_. Outside, with his breath wisping in the chill air, the night shades of amber streetlights and purple-black sky, it finally felt like he could breathe again.

The walk back to the dorm couldn't have been too long. He was cold and clammy by the time he unlocked the door, fingers stiff. College was — maybe it was just nerves, again, but he was overwhelmed. He'd never been good with social situations.

Four flights up, and it took a second for his eyes to adjust to the dark dorm room after the light in the hallway. There was a diffuse brightness from somewhere that didn't quite click until he stepped inside: his laptop was on, the screen a solid white. He panicked a little, dashing over and trying to swipe it awake — all he needed now was his computer to break, on top of everything else. Nothing. He looked at it, brightness at max, every single pixel flat white, and held down the power button, hoping it'd turn off and back on normally.

The pixels across the screen rippled, faint geometrical patterns on the white field, and then a kind of weird iridescence, bubbling up across the plastic of the screen. He looked down, brows furrowing, and —

And the screen warped, bulging out in the center before cracking, and he jerked back with a scream. Plastic and droplets of liquid crystal burst out, followed by — a thing, protruding from the screen, like it was pushed out from inside. It twitched, rotating, and then _flexed_. The shape resolved itself in his mind: a hand, or a low-poly model of one, straining out from inside his computer.

"What the fuck?!" he yelled, skittering away from his computer. The hand reached out, groping for the edge of the screen, and then grabbed hold and pulled, joined by a second hand. A shape like a body hauled itself out of his broken laptop, like it was pulling itself out from a deep pit. The figure was — he recognized it with a dizzying sinking feeling. It was Ma'ilele. Looking like he'd looked the moment the game had crashed: the textures all up one arm parallel lines that warped and converged wildly as he moved, and stretching in a sharp, abrupt triangle to the center of his chest. Corrupted textures buzzed from his eyes; from the pinpoint lights of his coral horns. His shoulders cracked the screen's frame, warping it out so he could fit the bulk of his body through, and he slumped out from the computer screen, hitting the floor and dragging himself forward, tail and legs slithering out, tail slashing up and then crashing down on his desk, sending papers flying. As he pulled himself free, he... resolved, for lack of a better word. The polygons of his model flaked away, like clinging eggshell peeling off, revealing smoother, more realistic skin — and then again, and again, shedding layers of polygons until his muscles tensed and flexed under his hide, little lines of glowing-blue blood speckling his sides where he'd scraped them against the sharp edges of the broken screen. The garbled black-pink pixels streaking from his glowing eyes became a brilliant fog, wisping away like smoke; hazing the wildly blitting textures ringing his laurel-leaf horns. There was a final _pop_ once his feet slithered from the screen, and what little was left of the screen went dark, a thin line of smoke rising from the keyboard.

The room was, in anything, better lit than before: Ma'ilele's glowing veins cast a watery blue light through the room, and the shattered textures ringing his head cast their own intermittent light, like a blinking radio diode. The crystals clustered across his hide refracted and reflected the light, so his silhouette was limned in a faint rainbow aura.

Nick wasn't really in a state of mind to appreciate the graphical fidelity, though. "What the fuck?" he repeated, voice squeaking.

Maybe drawing Ma'ilele's attention to him was a bad idea: the sahagin looked up, eyes blazing multicolored static, and his shark mouth peeled back in a grin, showing off double rows of serrated fangs. He stood up slowly, dusting off stray pixels and laptop shards, and he was — massive. A good foot and a half taller than Nick, at least. And Nick's eyes went straight between his legs: he had a slit between his legs, veins branching over it, and it was distended in a fat mound, its lips flushed a brilliant purple, with strange spines engorged around the edges, like a frill. The very tips of his cocks peeked out, sharp and drooling, flourescent blue ooze slowly dripping down the wet curves of his lips and over his slick hide.

Ma'ilele took a step closer, and then another, and then the sahagin's huge claws were wrapping around Nick's shoulders. "Hey," he said, in a disconcertingly normal voice, head ducking down to hiss in the shell of Nick's ear; Nick's entire body shuddered, mouth hanging open.

"What — are you — are you for real? Like, the real— Ma'ilele?" he said, utterly butchering the name.

Ma'ilele snorted, absently peeling a lo-rez fragment from his forearm, the hide underneath slimy. It sputtered like a fuse when he dropped it, dissolving into stray pixels. "Well, _Nicholas_ , the 'real' Ma'ilele was a hundred lines of game script and another hundred of text corpus, so: nah, not really."

"So, uh, who are you?" Nick said, taking a step back, aware he'd just pressed himself against the wall, the plastic pane of the dorm window bending against his back.

"I'm an _actual person_ instead of a dialog script; I'd say that's better."

"So, are you — real? For real?"

Ma'ilele chuckled, less a laugh than just an acknowledgement of humor. His hips rolled forward, the nubby tips of his twin cocks bleeding hot slime through Nick's tee-shirt, smearing against his skin. "I feel pretty real," he said. "Why don't you check?"

Nick squeaked, air stuck in his throat, just staring down wide-eyed at Ma'ilele's vent, the hide straining outward, sharp fishhook spines of his cockhead spreading outward, revealing a mess of fleshy barbs beneath. His hand twitched forward, not so much touching as slapping against Ma'ilele's sleek hide. He felt in awkward jerks towards the radiant heat of his spread vent, practically outlined by glowing veins branching across the wet, unfurling mound. This was the first time he'd ever touched a dick that wasn't his own. If monster dicks counted for that. He heard himself talking, voice shrill in his own ears: "So are we — were we — dating?"

"Well, you did get my romance values to a hundred," Ma'ilele said, wry. "I'm sure that counts for something. But we got interrupted before things got going last time," he said, and his fingers played down Nick's scrawny chest. "I was thinking we could have a do-over." His lips curled into a terrifyingly-wide smile against the side of Nick's head, and Ma'ilele rocked forward, his cocks pressing hard against Nick's hand. They throbbed against him, and each pulse spat out blobs of glowing slime, soaking his shirt to his skin all the way up to the collar.

"What?" he said, weakly.

"I was thinking we could _fuck_ ," Ma'ilele said, rolling his hips. "Since you seemed pretty into it before."

"But—" Nick said, flailing his arms, like he could encompass the entire situation — but I'm not exactly a burly orc; but you just climbed out of my computer, what the fuck. In the light of how there was an enormous, muscled monster-guy rutting against him, his mind settled for the first one. Less likely to undermine the foundations of reality than the answer to the second one. "But weren't you expecting — I mean, wasn't I — orc? Big?" he said, tongue tripping over itself.

"Yeah, I know," Ma'ilele said. "And I was thinking we could do something about that, too...." One of his huge hands trailed down Nick's shoulder, claws catching in the fabric of his shirt. He rucked up his shirt, revealing his pale, basically toneless belly, wisps of hair running down from his belly-button. His hand was feverishly hot pressed against Nick's bare skin, and then it seemed like the burn soaked into his body, muscles spasming and clenching. It felt like getting punched in the gut, and he doubled over, wheezing. The spasms spread everywhere Ma'ilele was pressed against him: curving up his chest, down over his hips. He peeled his shirt up, staring down at himself, and with each contraction he could see the shape of his abs, thickening with each clench. His skin was dusky, darkening in splotches, and even in the wavering blue light he could tell it had a green tinge.

"What?" Nick croaked. His voice cracked in the middle like he was fifteen again, register dropping, and a half-second later he realized Ma'ilele had caught him by the shoulders when he fell, his hands pressed against his neck, and the same burning was soaking into his throat.

"Hold on," Ma'ilele said, leaving him trembling on the floor, staring with wide eyes at the swell of his abs, already too blocky to fit on his thin frame — the muscles bulged out, distending from the rest of his stomach, green hide splattered in an asymmetric splash across his chest. The dorm light flicked on, bright, and Nick stared down at his stomach. His skin was softer, thicker — he could feel its edge under his fingers, where it changed from his usual pale skin to orc-hide. The hair down his stomach was a blond-orange, prickling thicker an inch behind the orc-skin.

Ma'ilele knelt next to him again, claws catching on the hem of his t-shirt and dragging it over his head. Barechested the change looked even more bizarre, the muscles far too blocky on his skinny frame, like a kind of chunky pregnancy, bulging out his stomach. Ma'ilele chuckled, hands dragging up his sides, his own massive body pressing against him, and when Nick tipped his head up Ma'ilele looked down, his maw opening. Their mouths met, Ma'ilele's bifurcated tongue flitting from his mouth, sliding slippery and slick over Nick's lips, and he whined, voice cracking again. Heat spread across his shoulders, skin there heavy under his fingertips, and he could trace the shifting muscles as they grew. Wiry hairs burst across his shoulders with hot pinpricks, the muscle beneath growing into a huge muscular yoke. With Ma'ilele pressed against him, his entire upper body was shifting, splotches of green skin growing and merging together. Nick trembled and gasped — heart pounding, lungs heaving — as the fiery rush spread all through him. Dizzy, he found himself pressing sloppy kisses against Ma'ilele's neck, his teeth aching as they stretched — the points of tusks visible at the edge of his sight, jaw cracking like warping wood as it grew to match.

There was a _pop_ , cartilage crunching, and suddenly he had a pretty substantial underbite, jaw gigantic, rubbery lips not quite closing over the still-growing mass of his lower tusks. His teeth rasped over the slope of Ma'ilele's shoulder, dimpling his scaled hide, drool spattering from his mouth. His tusk-tips dug into the groove between his absurdly-defined muscles and the sahagin groaned, rumbling all around him. Nick opened wide and bit, blunt teeth digging hard into the muscle of his shoulder, and Ma'ilele groaned louder, voice warbling, huge webbed hand spanning the back of Nick's head, pulling his teeth deeper. The sahagin's twin cocks spurted hot slime against his stomach, soaking into the thick mat of hair that was spreading there. Nick bit again, and again, sucking wet bruises into his hide, all the way up the slope of his shoulder and to the hinge of his jaw, pulling away to kiss him again, both of them drooling; lips and fangs and tusks making it impossible to press tight together. He was talking, mumbling: "Oh god, oh fuck, please, more", over and over, interspersed with low grunts, his voice a low rumble in his own ears, lisping and cracked from his new mouth.

The change had swept up his head, the shape of his skull; the planes of his face shifted in subtle ways. Hair prickled across his jaw, rough stubble that scraped over Ma'ilele's skin as they kissed. At some point he'd inherited the thick bull-ring septum piercing of his character, and now it was a constant weight, heavy and tugging at his nose, skewing to the side as he dragged his face up the slope of Ma'ilele's head.

Nick pulled back, head spinning, looking down at himself. He looked — like an Orc. Like his character. He ran a hand through his hair, his brown hair coming out in loose clumps, already replaced with tufts of — he pulled a hank down, going cross-eyed staring at it — more blond-orange hair, tufted down the center and short at the sides; the same fauxhawk his character had. He shook his head, loose brown hair exploding in all directions; Ma'ilele snorted when some landed across the tip of his snout.

For the first time he could really _feel_ his muscles — before he had the sense that yes, muscles, skeletal locomotion, but now he could focus: clenching his pecs and watching them shift; flexing his bicep just to feel it contract, and then twisting his forearm so his tricep stood out in sharp relief.

Except all that ended at the waist: his cargo shorts were resting high, digging into his waist. His lower body had filled out some, just from ambient exposure, but even the slightly-toned muscles were comically tiny compared to his upper body. Ma'ilele pulled back fractionally, and Nick wobbled, legs trembling under the sheer weight of his upper body. They both went down at the same time: Nick tugged at the button of his shorts, Ma'ilele's hands wrapping around the waist and pulling the zipper down by main force, stripping him of his shorts and Batman boxers in one motion, tossing them aside so that he was sitting on the dingy dorm carpet, totally naked.

There were patches of green hide across the outside of his thighs, fuzzy with blond hair, and the muscles stretched a little further; thighs thick and muscular all the way down to his knees. His cock, rock hard, was — he had a perfectly nice dick, he knew. It was statistically above average. But compared to the monster his orc had, or even to the two foot-and-then-some prongs jutting from Ma'ilele's vent, drooling across his stomach, it was hard to not be a little embarrassed of his dick. He wrapped his hands around Ma'ilele's, making to wrap them around his dick, but the sahagin pulled back, his own muscles surging as they wrestled.

Nick found himself laughing — "C'mon man, you're holding out on me!"; "Little impatient, huh?" Ma'iele said in response, teeth bared — trying to force Ma'ilele's hands around his dick, the sahagin just rubbing up and down his thighs, sending green hide growing in streaks, thighs trembling and they swelled. They flipped over each other — there was a moment he was on his stomach in a headlock, Ma'ilele's arm wrapped around his neck, his twin cocks dribbling in the small of his back — until somehow it ended with him on his back, Ma'ilele sitting on his knees, keeping his hands pinned over his head with one hand, his other stroking his stomach, each motion sending a sparking rush of heat down to his cock. Nick squirmed, face flushed, his cock neatly slotted between Ma'ilele's massive shafts, rasping back and forth over the huge, fleshy bristles coating his shafts.

It turned out sahagin feet were nearly as dextrous as hands: Ma'ilele leaned forward, knees bracketing Nick's waist, and twined their legs around each other. The drawn-out arch of his huge webbed feet wrapped around his calves, the hide supple as Ma'ilele rubbed down his calves and feet. The change was so much quicker this time, maybe because almost the rest of his body was already there — a rush of spasms, thighs and calves cramping as they swelled larger, dense pressure and weight anchoring his body, outpaced by the sheer power building in his frame. The joints in his feet cracked and popped, toes spreading wider, and they dug into the carpet, even that sensation feeling somehow — better. His muscles were rock hard, a kind of _power_ in his hips and ass that he'd never even imagined. He grinned up at Ma'ilele, and then _thrust_ , snapping up off the ground, lifting the massive sahagin solely on his hips. He was aware of the weight — Ma'ilele was not light, sitting right on his pelvis, but he was nowhere close to straining. Just tense; taut.

Nick flipped them over, Ma'ilele sprawled under him, and he just rutted against him, his cock — the only human thing left on him — slotted against his vent, coated in the glowing slime Ma'ilele was drooling alike from his cocks and vent. He groaned, drool spattering down across the sahagin's chest — he really wasn't used to the tusks yet — and hips snapping forward, grinding against the rasping barbs of Ma'ilele's cocks. The sahagin moved, shimmying down beneath him, until he was facing Nick's cock, tiny now given the inhuman bulk of both their bodies.

Ma'ilele blew on it, breath cool, lips just-barely touching the pale skin of his dick, and Nick groaned, the sound rumbling low and deep. The sahagin's hands were splayed over his hips, thumbs just under his balls, and Nick was frozen, looking down, staring as Ma'ilele opened wide, bifurcated snake tongue flicking out and dragging all the way down the length of his cock, practically enveloping it in the groove down the center. Nick groaned, already just a hair away from coming, eyes wide as he stared.

The forked tip of Ma'ilele's tongue flicked against his balls, and they throbbed, the sensation so sharp he couldn't tell if it felt good or bad or what: just sensation, pressure, so strong his eyes rolled back in his skull, whimpering as heat throbbed down his body, slamming into his balls. The dense flesh bulged and swelled, growing larger against the curve of Ma'ilele's lower lip. His skin changing almost tickled, a prickling ring spreading up his shaft, buzzing around his cockhead, and _that_ was definitely pleasure. Between the coils of Ma'ilele's tongue he could see the darker skin of his shaft: a rich, heavy emerald, straining more and more. The tip of his cock, slipping across the sahagin's thin lips, emerged tinged green-gold. Nick groaned, aware of the spatter of drool spilling down his chest; he absent-mindedly wiped it with the back of his hand, fixated on Ma'ilele between his thighs.

His balls _throbbed_ , their weight just growing and growing. They spilled from Ma'ilele's mouth, tacky with spit, shifting to rest against his thighs, dense and heavy. They pulsed again, growing faster. The heavy, supple flesh of his sac strained, barely keeping pace, his balls drawn up tight under his cock simply because there was no other place to go. His sac was a single straining bulge, the flesh inside swelling like a water balloon inflating, only twice as heavy. Blond hair fuzzed over his balls with more hot pinpricks, spreading as his flesh expanded until it was nearly a layer of fur, a thick forest of blond hair coating his balls and inner thighs, meeting the rough thatch across his stomach.

His balls filled the space between his thighs, his sac draping in slick, sweaty folds. They were grotesquely oversized compared to his cock, and they only kept growing. Each pulse wracked his entire body, a throbbing squeeze that seemed to gather up blood and force it down between his legs, hitting his balls with a prolonged impact, or like the coiling pulse just before he'd come: heat and energy soaking into them with a rush that had his toes clenching, fingers digging into Ma'ilele's shoulders. His balls rippled larger, creeping up his inner thighs, digging against Ma'ilele's inhuman jaw. Each pulse gained them layers, growing from apple-sized, to huge, lopsided beans, to the size of Nick's newly-enormous hands, and even larger, pratically the size of his head, where even Ma'ilele's long, webbed fingers couldn't easily hold one of them. They hit the carpet with a frission of heat, solidly as thick as his thighs and still throbbing outward, gravity itself squeezing them, bottoms flattening where they were pressed against the floor.

His cock, comparatively, was a tiny nub, hardly the size of one of Nick's thumbs, almost completely buried in the heavy folds of his balls, with only the greenish-brown tip jutting out, like the knob of a clit. Ma'ilele's tongue slid around it, drooling all over his skin, rasping on the fuzzy fur across his balls. The throbs of growth didn't stop, they just shifted: the next rush slammed into his cock just as much as his balls, and Nick yowled, the noise guttural and low. His cock throbbed, swelling against Ma'ilele's tongue, that single pulse adding inches. The line of his urethra bulged, a fat flange nearly half again the size as the rest of his shaft, and his cockslit gaped, slick pre bubbling up. The next pulse had him almost crying, cockhead swelling, the thick chambers on either side of his cock flooding wider. His flesh creaked like leather, sloppy and wet, and Ma'ilele drew back with a _pop_ , leaving his cock bobbing in the air, almost steaming. His slit was gaping wide, pre burbling up, and Ma'ilele lapped around the flange of his cockhead, along the underside where there was new flesh growing: a thick, stretchy ribbon down the underside of his cockhead, connecting to the rolls of flesh gathering on his shaft; his regrowing foreskin. The sensation of Ma'ilele's tongue lapping against his new frenulum was almost too much — his vision whited out, a cracked cry pouring from his mouth, and he just arched up, whining and panting, drooling all down his jaw as Ma'ilele slobbered along his cockhead.

Nick groaned, body splayed out on the ground, Ma'ilele bobbing between his legs, his head practically cradled between Nick's oversized balls. His cock stretched inside the sahagin's mouth, tip pushing deeper and deeper, flaring wider, and Nick arched up, burying his cock to the root in Ma'ilele's mouth. His fuzzy pubes ground around Ma'ilele's lips. He was still pushing deeper: the growth butted his cockhead against the back of Ma'ilele's throat. Ma'ilele swallowed, Adam's apple rolling against his balls, and his cockhead sunk into his throat, wrapped in wet, coaxing muscles. Each pulse made it tighter, the flesh of his cock bloating, the chambers of his shaft distending into fat ovals, the crest of his cockhead turning into a thick ridge, flaring out in a bloated mushroom-cap head, all of it pulling Ma'ilele's throat tighter around his cock. The sahagin bobbed up and down, slurping, and each time he drew back the root of his cock was visibly thicker. His cockhead sunk ever-deeper down his throat, spit and pre forming a slobbery plug that squelched back and forth, spattering across the chiseled muscles of Nick's stomach when Ma'ilele swallowed. His cock bloated, so thick that Ma'ilele's throat started to distend, forming a wide bulge down his neck, the tip shifting back and forth until his cock simply grew so large the head was lodged at the base of his throat, wetly popping under Ma'ilele's collarbone.

Nick whined, hips thrusting, amazed at first by the sheer power in his body; his hips jerked forward to slap the muscled arch of his pelvis against Ma'ilele's gaping mouth, cock sunk deep in his chest, and then he pulled back: sloppily fucking Ma'ilele's mouth until he was just on the edge of coming, frissions of heat collecting all down the still-growing length of his cock. Ma'ilele pulled back, mouth yawning wide as he spat out all of Nick's cock, and — even having felt it bore down deep into Ma'ilele's throat, once it was all in the open it was impossible to believe that that _thing_ was attached to him. It burst from Ma'ilele's throat, inch after inch of thick shaft, all glistening with slobber and his own pre, painting his skin shiny. It was close to being forearm thick — his _new_ forearms, an enormous block of iron-hard muscle; not the thin sticks he'd had. The ridge of his cockhead built up a thick plug of slime, Ma'ilele coughing out clots when his cockhead erupted from the back of his throat, spluttering mouthfuls of ooze across the arch of his pelvis, painting his blond fuzz flat against the muscle. His cock arched up, still flexible, wobbling and ticking in the air, glistening and dripping, and again he felt some new, powerful muscle contract under his stomach, sending the entire pillar of his cock swinging up, splattering down the center of his chest, spit and pre erupting in all directions. Nick flexed his pecs, staring down — his chin just-barely pressing against his cockhead, nestled tight between his pecs. His hips jerked, fucking an inch of his slick, slobbery cock up through his pecs, and then back, fleshy foreskin rolling back over the golden-green head, burying it in rich emerald flesh. Ma'ilele chuckled, voice still a little hoarse, as he watched Nick stare down at himself, slowly fucking his cock through his pecs, hips rolling up against the increasingly dingy dorm carpet.

"I guess this is how big it was in-game," Ma'ilele said, wiping his maw with the back of one hand, spitting trails of slime out onto his already-soaked forearm. He sat up, huge hands wrapping around Nick's shaft, somewhere in the vast span between his crotch and his chest. "But let's be honest, it's only this big because there weren't any options to make it bigger, right?"

That thought alone was enough to send a bolt of pleasure down Nick's cock, the twitch running through it like a proper muscle, the cockhead flaring out against the pressure of his pecs. "Please," he said, or maybe he just thought it really hard. Ma'ilele stroked him off, webbed hands streaming with slime as he pumped up and down, and Nick just watched, wide-eyed. The irregular slope of his cock swelled even further, first a long vein running up his length, like a snake, and then more: branching out in thick squiggles, until he was painted with fat, finger-thick veins down the side. All the while, his cock simply _grew_ , pressure building inside and bloating it fatter. It distended as it grew, flesh too large to keep its old shape. The already-enormous shaft bulged out most of the way up, thickening into a wide oval, only stuck back into shape just under the cap of his cockhead. His pecs spread, shaft thicker and thicker, cockhead more and more massive, until even the two huge slabs of muscle weren't enough to contain it. Rolls of foreskin smeared between his pecs, shaft inching forward until it was solidly pressed against his chin — filling the entire space under his neck — and then further, the shaft bowing until he tugged it up, the entire shape bending in an arc before it burst out from under his chin, wobbling, and came to rest with a meaty _thwack_ against his face, like getting punched. It was a third leg; the shaft the size of one of his thighs, and it only grew fatter near the tip, where the head itself was — well, head-sized. His cockslit gaped, easily the size of his mouth, watery precome slopping out in waves, slowly painting Nick's face. His stubble rasped against the sensitive flesh, near-painful, and he opened his mouth to groan and got a mouthful of pre, gurgling and sputtering.

Ma'ilele mumbled something from the vicinity of Nick's balls, and he had to crane himself up to even see over the mass of his cock, piled on top of his pecs. Webbed fingers slid up his thigh, in the sweaty, slick space between his balls, and then beneath him, up the crack of his ass to press against his hole. It was the same thing as everywhere else: he could feel his asshole _throb_ , heat pooling inside him, and he was suddenly aware of his asshole as a muscle, a huge ring that clenched and opened. Ma'ilele was almost buried under him: Nick's legs up in the air, titanic balls draped over one shoulder, spanning over the crystal clusters down his back. His dorsal fin scythed up between Nick's thigh and balls; that was the only part of his head visible.

Ma'ilele's thick, heavy fingers pressed between his muscled ass cheeks. He slid across Nick's ring, the muscle thick and flexible. It opened, or Nick opened it, when he circled in tight, digging into the very center of his pucker. He dug inside, and Nick groaned. He'd never — well, no, that was a lie. He'd tried to finger himself in the shower a few times, and once he'd even used an old toothbrush. It had never seemed that great. But now Ma'ilele's fingers — all of them, web thick and rubbery between them — sunk inside him, and his asshole spread, Nick flexing it open until it practically gaped. Ma'ilele's broad fingertips crashed against something inside him — his prostate, he knew. Fingertips pushed down, squeezing it through the wall of his ass, and Nick groaned, a rush of heat flooding through him, seemingly gushing up the entire length of his cock, taking entire seconds before it reached the tip.

"I'm thinking we can make a few more changes," Ma'ilele said, voice vibrating against his asscheek. His fingers jabbed hard into his prostate again, and it _swelled_. Like a balloon inflating inside him: dense, heavy flesh folding over itself, thickening. Inside, slick fluid secreted from growing glands, so much he could feel the wet heat flood through him, pulsing up like the bead on a rising thermometer. Like water gushing through a hose, he felt internal tubes snap open, flooded with fresh precome. His cockhead tensed, cockslit gaping open into a broad 'O', and then erupted, a bolt of precome shooting out with enough force to paint the wall and window behind him, droplets spraying everywhere on the rebound. A solid wave crashed into his face, shockingly hot and sweat-salty, pouring in slobbery waves down his jaw, pooling in the hollow of his neck. Ma'ilele jabbed at his prostate again, an audible _squelch_ from inside him as another flood sprayed out, painting his face glossy, spilling over the sides of his body. Nick groaned, eyes squeezed tightly shut, slurping and slobbering on the curve of his monstrous cockhead as his prostate swelled, doubling and then doubling again. Normally you could hit it through the ass, he knew, but now it was so massive it was a huge, pulpy mess pressing against the wall of his ass, distending outward: a swell larger than Ma'ilele's fingers outstretched, constantly secreting more watery pre, gushing and spurting up his cock like a tapped well. It almost hurt, a wet pressure inside him like a full bladder; the very motions of his body seemed to mechanically wring out more pre, like a sodden sponge, sending it pulsing up his dick.

Ma'ilele pulled out of him with a slurp, his asshole rubber-banding closed, clenching tight. His balls crashed to the ground like boulders when Ma'ilele shouldered them off, rising up in front of him. His own cocks had been unattended, and they were coated in glowing blue pre, the shining fluid smeared across his stomach and thighs. Nick reached for him, around the tree-trunk of his cock, and pulled him up, until the sahagin was sitting on his balls like they were a bean-bag chair, his cocks spiky where they rubbed against the base of his shaft.

Ma'ilele leaned in, Nick's cock sandwiched between them, the head spurting across both their faces. He licked the underside of Nick's cock, forked tongue flitting over the rolls of his loose foreskin, up the tapering triangular flap of his wrist-thick frenulum, and a thundering eruption of pre rocked both of them, coating both their faces. It was shinier now, limned with a golden tinge, like he was spurting oil. "I got one more thing," Ma'ilele said, speaking with his mouth full, lips wrapped around his frenulum, tongue lashing up and down, sucking the fat roll of flesh into his mouth.

Nick barely had the presense of mind to go "Yeah?", just groaning the word out while he hunched up, fucking his cock between their lips, squinting with cords of pre drooling from his brows to his cheeks.

Ma'ilele spread his hands, like he was about to do a magic trick, and then reversed them, suddenly holding metal spheres between each set of fingers: six in all, each of them the size of an apple. "Orcs get piercings," he said, reaching up with his thumb to tweak the bull-ring through Nick's nose, and then across to — oh, right, his character had ear piercings, and so now he did too. Two long barbells through the shell of one ear, and then clasped bangles in the lobe of the other. He hadn't even noticed, though the motion of Ma'ilele tugging on them sent bolts of pleasure through his already-overstimulated body. "So it's _lore-appropriate_ to have some more," Ma'ilele said, fingers pressing the warm metal against his cockhead. "Here:" he said, and handed one of the metal balls to him. It was heavy, but not heavy enough to be metal all the way through, and perfectly spherical, slick and slippery — though that was mostly because he was gushing pre, and they were both coated in it. But they didn't really look like any kind of piercing he'd ever seen before.

"What's it even for?"

Ma'ilele leered, shark grin wide. "I'll show you," he said, before pushing one of them inside his cock. Not down the slit: he pressed one against the side of his shaft, right under his cockhead, and his skin dimpled and then spread, an alien kind of stretch as it... sunk inside him, down under a few layers of flesh, growing over when Ma'ilele pulled back, until it was a half-sphere bulge on the underside of his cock. Ma'ilele did it again, and again, two directly on the left and right of his frenulum, the others in a loose ring under his cockhead, and his cock was so huge there was room for another six without any worry of them touching.

Nick was kind of dazed — the balls warmed up fast, feverishly hot, and the pressure seemed to hit something down the very core of his cock, direct stimulation of something he'd only ever felt indirectly before. Ma'ilele's hands slid over them, more pressure, and he bellowed, the next arc of pre erupting and splattering against the ceiling, spraying into his hair like rain. The balls resonated, full of fluid, ringing inside him even after Ma'ilele pulled back. Nick just panted, lips spread around one of them, his moans sending it resonating again. Ma'ilele moved again, and Nick opened his eyes to see him procure a huge bronze bracelet, shaking it down off his forearm like it'd been there the entire time. Its gauge was easily the size of his wrist. Ma'ilele pressed it against Nick's cockslit, slowly spreading it wide as he worked the curved tip inside his dick, sinking down inside him until the tip was below the two points of pressure that were the beads, the curve digging sharp against the wall of his urethra. This time he was prepared for the slick, strange feeling of his flesh parting and rejoining as Ma'ilele gave him a truly enormous Prince Albert, the hoop so vast he could've worn it easily as a choker. Pre oozed out around it, more streaking down the underside of his shaft where the piercing exited, practically gushing. Ma'ilele pressed his face there, lapping around the tip as he screwed an enormous cap on the end, locking it in place.

Nick just lay back when Ma'ilele moved lower, pulling more barbells — and it occurred to him that someone could legitimately use these barbells as weights, big and heavy enough to use as dumbbells — from nowhere, slowly assembling a thick ladder down the underside of his cock: most of a handspan between each set, and the caps huge, heavy spheres, glossy with the mess of pre streaking down his shaft.

Nick's head swum, dazed. Ma'ilele's thick fingers slid over the sloppy mess of his cock, the bizarre stretch as he pushed each one through like a bolt being thrown open inside him. His cock bobbed lower, the weight when it smacked against his chest distinctly heavier. Nick tried to peer over the side of his cock: the underside was a solid line of bronze balls. Trying to count he lost track around eight, and then counted fourteen, and then tried again and counted twelve. His skin piled up on the sides of his piercings, even the fat caps nearly envelloped in the soft, dark flesh of his shaft. Ma'ilele stroked up and down, fingers caressing each fat bulb, tugging them lightly; tongue flitting out to coil around them, slobbering over the dark metal as he sucked them into his mouth, lips kissing the skin of his shaft. Each motion sent a bubbling current of heat through his cock, washing across him until he was dazed, just lying back with his legs spread, groaning as Ma'ilele lavished attention across his dick, gurgling under the flood of pre he was drooling across his own face.

Ma'ilele reached the tip, lips spread over the pearls, drooling over them before he pushed himself up just slightly more, tongue swiping through the layers of oily pre coating his cockhead before kissing Nick, mouth open, the curve of his cock butting against both their lips.

He pulled back, standing, and Nick groaned, reaching out to pull him back, and stuttering to a stop when he saw just what Ma'ilele was doing. His cocks had been drooling all over the place, thick glowing slime, and it'd poured down his thighs, absolutely coating the underside of his tail. At the junction where his tail met his hips, under his vent and the final tapering curve of his hip muscles — his asshole was flushed a vivid blue-purple, Ma'ilele's fingers shoved inside himself, the muscle spread to gaping, revealing brilliantly purple inner flesh, all slick with his own pre.

"What d'ya think?" Ma'ilele said, fingers squelching as he fucked himself, blue slime streaking from his vent down into his spread asshole, building up around his knuckles. He pulled Nick's cock back fractionally, straddled it like a barstool: the comparison was absurd, even on his massive frame. Nick just stared, thinking only of the hot, slick slide of Ma'ilele's hide against the curve of his cockhead, his Prince Albert shifting side-to-side as they moved against each other. He gushed oily precome, flooding Ma'ilele's spread-open asshole, less a spurt than the start of a constant hose, washing out slimy blue pre with his own.

Ma'ilele straddled his cock more solidly, pushing down, and used his hand to slot the gargantuan cuve of Nick's cock in place, straining against the gape of his asshole. Nick just groaned, throwing his head to the side and then covering his eyes with his forearm: like even looking at the scene would be enough to get him off. He wasn't prepared for the sensation: Ma'ilele's asshole clenching and then flowering, pressure shifting his piercing, and then hot flesh spreading across the dome of his cockhead. It was completely beyond reason, Ma'ilele stretching and stretching without a single sign of complaint, just hissing and groaning as he sunk himself straight down on that impossibly-huge cock. Heavy, hot flesh coiled over the ridge of his cockhead, swallowing him up with a _squelch_ , then there was a tight band of pressure ringing the pearls, so sudden and unexpected that Nick just whined, voice cracking, gasping. His cock kicked, the force enough to send Ma'ilele staggering forward, and the next eruption of pre blasted inside him, gurgling around his cockhead as a heavy weight before it cracked the loose seal around him, pouring around his shaft in sheets. Nick groaned again and thrust, not even thinking, and the clenching vise around his cock slipped down, slurping and gurgling as he buried most of his cock in a single thrust, fat barbell after barbell popping into Ma'ilele in a cacaphony of squelches.

He cracked an eye open, just to make sure he hadn't just killed him — and Ma'ilele was squatting over him, eyes shut, mouth hanging open, twin lines of glowing blue precome splattered up Nick's hips and chest, slowly smearing into the mess of his own pre coating his skin. His stomach was stretched, pushed into a thick gut — like his entire body was padding around Nick's cock. But he looked fine, for someone who had a cock shoved inside him up past his ribcage. He groaned, slowly squatting lower, and the final four rows of barbells popped into him: the flesh of his gaping asshole catching on them, straining, and then sucking them in with a jolt, one after the other. His cocks twitched again, spurting pre in two ropes that arched through the air and splashed down across Nick's chest, the bolts hitting him in both shoulders, coming down with a series of wet _splats_ ; his entire body convulsed around Nick's cock when he bottomed out, hips hitting Nick's with a slap. The head should've been nearly lodged in his throat, even on his gigantic frame, but he looked fine. Dazed, when his eyes opened, their glowing haze thinned until Nick could see his slitted pupils, blown wide. He rocked back and forth, the distended bulge of his stomach shifting, and he reached down with his glitched arm to stroke his cocks, gathering them both together to pump at once.

Nick reached out, his own huge mitts wrapping around Ma'ilele shafts, pumping them. Ma'ilele grunted, thrusting through his hands, riding Nick's cock in time with his thrusts. His stomach bulged and relaxed minutely, swollen with cock flesh, as he rocked back and forth, hands wrapped around Nick's calves, guttural grunts and groans bursting from his throat. Nick's hands were coated in slime, glowing brilliantly, smoothing the crackle of Ma'ilele's shafts. All his spines were fully engorged, bristling like finger-thick — for a normal-sized person; not at all either of them — spikes down his shaft, sliding smooth when he thrust up only to flare out, bend and flex when he jerked back. Blue slime squirted from between Nick's fingers as he pumped, fat dollops soaking into the carpet.

Ma'ilele was panting, fucking himself eagerly on the final foot or so of Nick's cock, thighs pushing up just enough for two of the fat piercings to pop out of his gaping ass, then slamming back down with enough force to rattle the walls, stomach bloating again, his entire body spasming from the impact, again and again until he was keening, a sharp high note ripping its way out of his throat, warbling and rising with each thrust.

Finally it crested, a kind of keening yell bursting out of him when he bottomed out. His entire body rippled around Nick's cock, asshole clenching, higher passages slurping against his shaft, smooth muscle contracting and writhing up and up and up, punctuated by sudden heavy bands of flesh, like second, third, forth assholes clenching around his cock, the slide of his cock working against each one another note of pleasure to the cacophony overwhelming his senses. Ma'ilele's cocks, steaming in Nick's grasp, went tense, the flood of glowing blue slime interrupted by sudden pulses, jerking like joystick feedback in Nick's fists, and a solid spray of dark purple come shot out, splattering up Nick's chest, droplets spraying his face, dappling the sheeting slime drooling down the window behind them; they got absolutely everywhere. His body clenched again, groaning, and his cocks pulsed, the second shot just as strong. He came in waves, strange black-threaded come shooting up Nick's chest and slowly flooding down in sticky piles, dark beads spattering his cheeks, spraying up the wall and pouring down the back of his head as Ma'ilele came, body seizing and writhing on Nick's cock.

There were nearly a dozen shots before Ma'ilele stopped, the last few just a burble of tarry slime, completely coating Nick's forearms. Even after that he was still euphoric, body shuddering, mouth open, panting and groaning as he shuddered around Nick's cock, his cocks still kicking in Nick's hands, just pumping from an empty well.

Before Ma'ilele had even touched him, Nick had been achingly hard, each touch like steam, soaking into him, showing him a new way his body could feel good. Ma'ilele's knees were spread around his waist, the long sweep of his ankles and feet pressed against his gargantuan balls, spasmodically clenching against folds of his heavy, fleshy sac, tugging his balls forward. He was so close, cockhead popping back and forth through a tight, hungry mouth high up in Ma'ilele's chest — he wasn't even thinking consciously, just rutting into each of Ma'ilele's thrusts, smacking his hips against his impossibly-gaping asshole, entire mind focused on the burn roaring through his cock.

A noise formed slowly in his chest, a deep growl that resonated, rumbling up through his body, louder and louder as he rutted into Ma'ilele's convulsing body. By the time his orgasm was tapering off Nick was riding the razor's edge, snarling with each thrust. He slammed inside, drew back, slammed in again, and the noise tore from his throat as a _roar_ , rattling the walls as he tipped over the edge. The tight bands of Ma'ilele's guts were grasping around his cock, a fat, rubbery mouth so high up it latched around his cockhead, squeezing against the bloated tether of his frenulum with each thrust, and Nick whited out, focusing only on that pressure, the underside of his cockhead dragging over the tense, trembling muscle deep inside Ma'ilele. His cockhead pulsed, thicker ooze drooling down the flare of his cockhead, taut like a drum, and Nick worked his cockhead back and forth, the final few inches of his shaft slurping back and forth around Ma'ilele's broken-wide asshole. There was a surging pressure, hot like a hose opened inside him. The winding pressure of sperm spraying up from his balls, winding through the labyrinth of tubes bloating his sac, nearly hurt. The stuff was tar-thick, moving in sluggish pulses. His prostate spasmed, squirting more and more pre, flooding in quarts and then gallons into Ma'ilele, until finally the gummy mass of his sperm hit some connecting point, smearing with the pre into proper come and fountaining up his shaft. His load was so thick the gummy mass of sperm was tethered together, solid ropes of it surrounded by the mess of his pre, and each time he shot the pressure pulled more out, like a solid line hooked all the way through his cock, winding down his shaft all the way to his balls — every single pulse like someone grabbing that tether and _pulling_ , yanking feets worth of slobbery, gummy come straight from his balls.

Nick just whined, roaring and thrashing, hips pumping wholly automatically. He drooled, froth bubbling up around his lips as he tried to breathe, breath rattling and heavy, matched only by the obscene _squelch_ of his cock slamming against Ma'ilele's swollen asshole, by the churning gurgle as he dumped shot after shot of come slurry deep into Ma'ilele's body. Wet heat bubbled around his cockhead, squelching as he thrust inside, his thrusts churning up the mess of his load into a thick, slimy ooze. Fat streamers of come drooled down his shaft, like a tiered fountain, increasing pools of his load pouring down, sloshing and gurgling, until they burst from Ma'ilele's asshole, jizz erupting from around his cock, opaque white and golden-shiny, like runny molasses. Ooze squelched between them when he bottomed out, and pulling out it stretched into taffy-like cords, webbed all across their hips and thighs, drooling down Ma'ilele's tail.

Nick just kept thrusting, what little conscious thought he could manage just a dim thread of _wow, I never used to come like this_ ; that little whisper drowned in the flood of sensation pouring into him, the increasingly-sloppy slide of Ma'ilele's flesh around his cock, the near-painful lurch of each pulse, again and again until he was just a machine, drooling and thrusting, his cock kicking with each _glorp_ of his load oozing out, huge pearls of come burbling out from Ma'ilele's overfilled ass. He was thrusting into a churning ocean, the sheer volume of his load bloating Ma'ilele's guts so wide they didn't even touch his shaft. His stomach was swollen, heavier and heavier, his hide creaking as his guts were flooded, folding over itself in a huge, wobbling belly, the underside shiny with Nick's come, squelching between them as the distended mass of his stomach pressed against Nick's chiseled abs. Nick's entire body was locked in orgasm, each of his muscles flexing, clenched hard as he thrust again and again, driving his cock into Ma'ilele's gaping ass.

He might have blacked out, or had part of his brain shut down: there was a dizzy span of time where he was only aware of the kick of his cock, the increasing weight of Ma'ilele's body on top of him, his bloated gut sloshing. The sahagin leaned forward, gut rolling over his twin shafts, flattening them between their bodies: the rippling, distended flesh of his stomach a weight all across Nick's stomach, the pressure like being immersed in water.

At some point he had to have stopped coming, but he just remembered being a little more cognizant, arms wrapped around Ma'ilele's body, slowly peeling them apart. Thick, white come was flooding out around his softening shaft, gurgling and squirting with each barbell that popped out. Even softening his shaft was enormous, pulling out with an eruption that painted nearly every surface in the dorm, a waterfall of come pouring from Ma'ilele's ass and soaking the carpet. His foreskin couldn't quite reach over his Prince Albert, his skin gathering over the ring like a partly-hung tent, the opening a wide oval, tipped with one end of the ring. Come was drooling out from the inside, huge white slugs of slimy fluid tethered between his dick and Ma'ilele's wrecked ass. Nick shifted, cock beginning a slow, weighty arc that ended with a near-painful impact across his stomach, and that just pulled out the strands like taffy, slowly drooping down to smear across his hip and thigh.

Ma'ilele meshed his fingers together and stretched, joints up and down his body popping. "That was pretty good," he said, settling back against Nick's side, his stomach audibly gurgling and sloshing from the movement. He was still leaking come like a broken keg, the swampy mess lapping at their sides as it washed out across the now-ruined carpet.

Nick was only halfway there, body still rushing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He nodded, or grunted assent, something like that. Probably. He reached for Ma'ilele, arms wrapping around his shoulders, and let the heavy ripples of pleasure carry him down into sleep.

* * *

The woke up when the dorm door crashed open. Nick jerked up with a snort, drool spilling down his chin, and squinted at the door. Probably Brad was there, blanching at the sight. At the sight, which — Ma'ilele stirred next to him, considerably less... inflated than he'd been. Nick looked back and forth, mouth hanging open, not sure where to even start.

" _Dude_ ," Probably Brad said. "No way you got laid before I did. But c'mon, at least put a sock on the door."

"Huh?" Nick said, intelligently.

Ma'ilele stretched again and sat up, blinking awake. Now that Nick was a little more awake, the room definitely looked... cleaner. Than they left it. It still stunk of sex, but the walls weren't soaked with come, and the carpet under him was crushed but otherwise clean, not the swampy mess it'd been. Also, they had the sheet from his bed draped over them, which in their current state (and size) was barely enough to keep Nick's dick covered. "I'm his boyfriend," Ma'ilele said, slowly slouching to his feet, swiping a blanket from his bed to wrap as an impromptu skirt around his waist. "Ma'ilele," Ma'ilele said, and wow, Nick really had been butchering it.

Probably Brad clasped forearms with Ma'ilele, most of his lower arm swallowed up by Ma'ilele's massive mitt. "Cool," he said, with a little grin, seeming off-footed but only up to walking in on some nearly-naked guys; not really the level of disbelief that them being a gigantic orc and sahagin monster entailed. "I'm Chad." Right, _Chad_.

"Sorry we had to meet like this," Ma'ilele said with a grin. "Next time we'll crash at my room."

"Nah, it's cool, I was just gonna drop off some stuff; I got some friends waiting out front." Chad finally stepped inside, rummanging through the boxes of stuff he had yet to unpack. Nick squinted at the clock: it was around three-thirty in the morning. "Gonna go to the diner. You could come with, if y'want?"

Ma'ilele looked over at Nick with a leer that even Chad picked up on. "You wanna?"

Nick blinked, looking back and forth between the two. "Uh, sure...?" he said, after an awkward pause.

"Uh, give us a minute to get dressed," Ma'ilele said, and Chad nodded and stepped back.

"What the hell was that?" Nick said the second they closed the door. He couldn't even work up the intonation to sound surprised.

"What, you don't wanna go to the diner?"

"No, I mean—"

"Figured we could spare him an eyeful." Ma'ilele shrugged. "Plus, as much fun as that was, don't think I wanna spend the next day waddling around leaking your load." He was pulling clothes out of nothing, some kind of skirt and robe Nick vaguely recognized from in-game. "You should get dressed too, y'know."

"With what?" Nick gestured down at himself. "None of my clothes are gonna fit."

"Oh ye of little faith," Ma'ilele said, pulling open Nick's dresser drawer with a flourish. "I think I deserve credit for not giving you better fashion sense when I gave you your new body."

Nick got up — staggering for a second from the sheer weight of his cock, like a boulder tied between his legs — and picked up a piece of red fabric that could double as a tent. He flipped it around: "Oh, hey, this is my Keep Calm and Carry On shirt!" He dragged it up over his head, and when he pulled it down it was nearly skintight: every defined curve of his chest on display, his pierced — pierced? apparently — nipples bulging the fabric, fat as a thumb. He started shuffling through the drawers, picking out clothes, all matching his new body.

"But no, I meant the—" Nick lisped, tongue slipping under his teeth and basically blew a raspberry against his tusks, drool spilling down his chin. He dropped his clothes and caught the strand midair. "Wow, I'm _really_ not used to these tusks. These. Theeese. These." He reached up, tugging on his lower lip, screwing up his face as he ran his tongue along the outer curve of his jaw, between his tusks and lips. "The part where this is totally normal." He gestured down at himself: gigantic, orcish, his soft cock mounding over his balls, both of them hanging down to his knees. He hadn't found underwear yet. He wasn't sure they could help.

Ma'ilele dressed, pulling from nowhere a bunch of clothes: wrapping his stomach in bandages, wrists and forearms too, and then pulling on some tight, stretchy trunks, like swimwear, with ovals cut in the sides to let the crystals across his outer thighs out. On top of that, something like chaps, dyed vivid purple and red, and on top of _that_ a half-skirt from something like reed cloth, green-brown and in rectangular layers — something that, in short, would've looked completely normal in a fantasy video game but looked like someone's surreal fashion project in person. "Figured I'd spare you the consequences of your actions, too. Orcs are totally normal. 'Oh wow,' he'd go. 'There weren't any sahagin where I grew up; I guess that's more of a coastal thing?'" he said, while dressing.

"You can do that?" Nick had found his boxers, but it was completely unclear how he'd actually put them on. Even with the extra fabric in front there was no way they'd stretch over his dick.

"Well, yeah." Ma'ilele flicked his fingers, voxel sparks erupting like cheap CGI. "Magic."

"Magic exists?"

Ma'ilele looked over, his gaze lingering palpably over Nick's fresh new body. Even through the corrupted haze fuming from his eyes Nick could tell he was rolling them. "Yes. Magic exists."

"That's video game stuff though. Not real."

"Evidence would suggest the contrary! And honestly, wouldn't that be better? Magic spells, superhuman feats of strength, bursts of power and light exploding out of you whenever you learn something — plus, hot orcs." He slapped Nick's ass, the _crack_ so sudden Nick yelped, flushing. Ma'ilele leaned in. "Want me to help with that?" he said, fingers trailing across Nick's underwear, lifting them from his hands. "Sit back."

Nick sat on the edge of his bunkbed, having to lean forward to come even close to being able to fit under the upper bunk. It creaked, sharp cracking noises coming from the corners, but it didn't collapse. Ma'ilele knelt in front of him, lifting his feet to pull the hem of his underwear up. He was on face level with Nick's dick. His breath wafted out, hot and humid, and the ratcheting pulse through his cock made the entire thing lurch, barbells clacking against each other as it swung to rest against his other thigh. Nick whined, high in his throat.

"I'm just saying, a magical world is pretty nice for everyone. Even if it doesn't really _help_ it's still got... panache."

"You sound like you're trying to convince me." Nick's voice wobbled, Ma'ilele pulling his boxers up his thighs, the waistband still trapped under his balls. He reached under and pulled, the material just-barely stretching enough to fit over their absurdly huge swell, clinging skin-tight to the curve of his cock. Ma'ilele exhaled against his cock again, snout almost pressed against his stomach, and his entire cock _lurched_ , threads snapping alarmingly. A pulse of pre shot up, like hot syrup coating the inner flesh of his stretched-out foreskin, only slowly trickling out and soaking into the brilliant yellow Batman logo stretched right across his crotch.

"Keep that up and we'll never get out of here," Ma'ilele said, grinning up at him.

That sharktooth grin that close to his dick should've been a little frightening, but all Nick could think about was the way it'd felt with his cockhead lodged down in his chest, the tight, sucking squelch as he'd fucked his throat. His cock twitched again. "Uh—" he said, fully intending to say "who cares about Chad, let's just fuck again," except Ma'ilele interrupted him.

"I'm not really trying to _convince_ you as, well, giving you my _itenerary_. You would not _believe_ how annoying it is to manifest, and now that I'm here you'd better believe I'm gonna get some work done. Spread around the power a little."

Maybe that should've been like cold water splashed on him: ominous implications, et cetera, but Ma'ilele was still on his knees in front of him, hands splayed on either side of the huge, bloated swell that was his cock and balls. "Manifest?"

"Oh yeah." Ma'ilele got up, returned with some cargo shorts. "You dearly need better clothes by the way. So it turns out when you have a magical virus it kind of spreads a lot. Because of how there's no magical antivirus. And when your computer gets infected with a magical virus —"

"That game wasn't really real?" Nick hazarded a guess.

"Oh, no, it's totally real. It sold abysmally and I think the dev team all got fired. But. I think the original curse was just, like — you know those douchebags on XBLA who call everyone fags when they get headshot?"

"Uh, sure."

"Turns out when you curse someone's game to have all the male characters hit on you incessantly, things kind of evolve weirdly when it hits the RPG genre. And so —" Ma'ilele gestured at himself with a flourish.

"So you're just — a virus dressed up like a video game character?" It felt more than a little weird to be having this conversation, while Ma'ilele yanked his cargo shorts up over his bulge, each tug sending a frission of pleasure up his spine. He was pretty sure having your dick slowly crushed was probably supposed to be painful.

"Oh please, there's no _just_. And anyway, I'm your perfect boyfriend." He looked up, eyes fuming, the corrupted gibberish above his head flashing glyphs in red, shattered voxels weaving around his head, through his blackened coral horns, lips pulled back to show both rows of serrated shark teeth. "That's how it works."

"That's kind of creepy."

"Well, what can you do. C'mon, I think that's the best we're gonna get." Ma'ilele yanked him to his feet, and Nick yelped — his balls were squashed up against his thighs, heartbeat pulsing through his dick not in a sexy way, just in the way that implied there wasn't really room for his blood vessels to expand. And even with all that — well, he was somewhat decent. His shorts were tented like he'd shoved a sleeping bag or two in them, and the usually-baggy folds were tight and straining the seams. "No one will care. I mean, I could magic it up that no one will care if you walked around totally naked, but I figure you should at least make a token effort. And if it helps, I don't really care _that_ much about being your perfect boyfriend." Ma'ilele stood up, gestured to the door. "I mean, I really liked your dick down my throat; I'll blow you later if you're up for it, but that can wait. Diner!"

"Yeah, diner." Nick said, and headed out.


	2. Field of Elbane

College was going okay for Chad so far. After move-in day he met some of the other freshmen in Wellester dorm, got acquainted with the campus, that kind of thing. Hung around, mostly — there was nearly a full week between move-in and when classes started, so he had the time to settle in.

Not that he actually did that much settling. The place was overflowing with young, anxious people, newly living away from their parents for the first time in their lives — and Chad included himself in that number — and busy, just... getting used to that freedom. Which meant staying out all night, partying, and crashing in some strange dorm only to repeat things the next day. It was two days before he slept in his actual dorm room. He was good with names, but he couldn't count the number of people he'd met so far — Meg & Diana, across the hall, both also in Art & Design, Graphic Design and Visual Arts; Sam & Taylor on their left, Architecture and Engineering; Hank & Amit on their right, Comp Sci. and English; and beyond that it took him a few guesses to remember anyone else's name and/or major. 

Plus, there was the issue of his roommate. Nick was maybe the quietest, most socially-awkward guy he'd ever met, despite (or maybe because) being a hulking Orc, seven-and-some feet tall, with big tusks, sharp features, and a whole host of bronze piercings across his face. Mostly he hunched on his side of the dorm, eyes focused on some video game.

Whatever, Chad figured, and let him do whatever. He spent a lot of time at the campus gym, trying to keep his routine going even after the move.

Two days before classes started though, he walked in on what looked — and smelled — like the aftermath of a fuck session of epic proportions, Nick and some burly sahagin guy sprawled across the floor, the sheets only barely making them decent. The sahagin guy — Ma'ilele — was his _boyfriend_ , which almost beggared belief, given how wildly different they seemed. Nick had hidden depths, apparently.

Anyway, he kinda felt sorry for them — only then did he actually stop and think about how Nick had gotten stuck with the narrow bunk bed that came in the standard dorms, instead of something he could actually fit in, some kind of filing error — and ended up inviting them out with him (and Hank, Amit, Diana, another Chad, and someone whose name he couldn't place) to the all-night diner they'd found at the edge of campus. Still: Nick sat there quiet and weird the whole time, maybe saying a whole five sentences, while Ma'ilele was nearly the diametric opposite.

But, whatever, none of his business.

The problem _was_ —

"Man, I don't really play video games," he said, waving away the DVD box Ma'ilele was angling his direction. "I mean," he said, trying to be polite, "I know you're really into that, Nick plays that all the time, but, I dunno, it's just not something I'm super into, you know?"

"Nah, it's cool." Ma'ilele tossed the game back onto Nick's desk. "I know Nick gets really into it, but like — for me after you spend months tweaking loot tables or whatever the fantasy kind of loses some of the appeal."

"Nick is _right here_ ," Nick said from the desk, shifting the game box to line neatly up with his laptop. Chad was quickly learning that Nick had a remarkably snarky interior under all his brutish orc muscle.

Ma'ilele reached behind him, absently patting Nick's enormous thigh, hand resting there. So that was that. Video games. Whatever.

* * *

And that _would've_ been that, except Nick and his boy were fucking again. Loud enough he could hear it from halfway down the hall. At least when he'd seemed an unsociable nerd he'd been _quiet_.

So whatever, fuck it, Chad thought, looking down at the game case in his hands. Might as well play some nerd video games. At least it'd pass the time, and hopefully blot out the sound of them fucking.

The common room was usually pretty deserted, or at least deserted at this hour. He didn't wanna wake up anyone else just to hang out, and it seemed like Nick spent the entire night fucking, every night. It was doing a toll on his energy levels.

The game was... whatever. Like he hammered through all the opening dialog because he just wanted to get to the point where he could shoot dudes, except apparently this was not that kind of game. If it wasn't for how he could probably still hear Nick and Ma'ilele fucking in the lulls if he actually wanted to listen he would've just given up entirely.

But eventually the game had him wandering around a medieval-looking pastoral hamlet, full of dudes that he could not, in fact, shoot. There were some goblins outside which he could, which was a little better. Eventually the game started telling him that he needed to go back to town to actually get his HP back up, or whatever, so... whatever. It passed time, at least.

And given how often he was getting kicked out so Nick and Ma'ilele could fuck he ended up playing it a _bunch_. Moving on from killing goblins and rats to killing lizardmen and trolls, and then myconids and shamblers, and then...

After the second or third time he got kicked out he started just wandering around in the inn building, since it had like a billion rooms. There were a bunch of rooms with, he figured, other mercenary characters? Or heroes or whatever. One of them was this big centaur dude, dark-skinned but with a blond coat and blond hair. Shirtless and just totally ripped — thick, powerful core, waist sharply defined where blond fur crawled up his stomach, and turned into a spray of hair across his thick pecs. He was wearing clothes on his horse-half, or at least what amounted to clothes for a centaur: a heavy cloth peytral around his waist that secured broad swaths of fabric hanging to his sides and back in shrouds. He had a few jagged scars, sliced across his arms or over his chin. One over his face, from his hairline down, neatly cutting through his eyebrow just missing his eye. And his dialog box gave his name as "AJ", which, seemed a little weird given all the Lord Ovberwaeorth and Ae'gytn Baverfell's in the game. But there was an option to ask about it: AJ said, "Oh, actually my parents named me Aloysius Javier Elysion. But man, it's such a mouthful."

Maybe more important than the name though was how Chad could ask him to tag along and he'd come with, chucking spears at whichever goblinoid he was killing at the time. So, whatever, it was a game. He'd rather be shooting guys, but, whatever."

* * *

Once Nick actually came out of their dorm afterwards, basically wrapped in a bedsheet and still reeking. Like, Chad got that he felt a little guilty for kicking him out all the time, but then why not just stop fucking doing it? And he wasn't gonna pick a fight with an orc who was like twice his weight.

"Oh, you're playing the game!" Nick said, squinting at the screen. "Are you seriously playing a _human warrior_? It's a fantasy game, like, have some creativity."

AJ speared the last goblinoid and so Chad looked over at him: "Oh c'mon don't front, I've seen your character and he looks just like you; you got no room to talk." Which shut him up.

* * *

So then there were like, dialog scenes? Like AJ was his character's bro and so they could talk when they were like, camping. AJ left the centaur tribes because he thought humans were cool, AJ got most of his scars fighting sahagin — which would be kind of awkward for Ma'ilele, maybe, — AJ had never really hooked up with any of the centaur fillies (which Chad thought sounded kind of weird, since like... horse parts), AJ was just... wandering around, adventuring around the world.

But that lead to, one evening when the dorms were even more deserted than usual, to AJ asking a favor. Like, they camped and instead of the camp screen it was AJ milling around the campfire.

"Uh, hey, actually, Chad, I was wondering if you'd— do me a favor maybe?" 'Chad' because that was what he named his character, because, why not? "Actually— nah, just forget it, nevermind," AJ said, hooves milling the ground, and Chad picked the option to press more.

"It's... kinda a big favor to ask, man. Like, you asked about centaur fillies, right? Not any around, and I can't really — centaurs can't really take care of themselves, if you know what I mean. And, man, I get so pent up I can't even —" he shifted, flanks twisting, and Chad looked back, flushed a little at what he could see. Mostly obscured by the camera angle, but there was no mistaking the dude had a _dick_ , like straight-up a horse dick on his model under his clothes. Balls midway down his flanks, a big furry tube where a cock should be. What was the game even rated; there was no way they could get away with that.

"You think you could help a guy out?" AJ said, face flustered, and... and yeah, a dialog wheel popped up, just "Yes" and "No". Chad spun it back and forth, watching as the guy's idle animation played, hooves clopping on the ground, absurd balls jouncing. No way that this was supposed to be in the game, it had to be... hacked or something.

But, fuck, the dude was as good a bro as you'd get in a video game, and hot for being half-horse, and —

and mostly he just didn't think about it, before spinning back to "Yes" and pressing X. Then he just watched, watching as his warrior — him — dropped to his knees, bare hands reaching up between AJ's flanks, and no _way_ was the game actually gonna show that shit. But it kept going — AJ groaning, hooves planted wider, and then with a sudden lurch the dude's cock swung into view, pushing from the tube with a gush of sparkling fluid. A fucking fat horse cock, pink-purple and shiny, right there in his hand.

"Fuck, bro, you have no idea how much I need this," AJ groaned, hunching forward — fucking his cock through Chad's hand, back and forth. It was — it was hot, alright? Like, Chad wasn't into guys, but even he had to admit AJ was hot. If they, like, went to one of the house parties on the row, chicks would be all over him — tight body, a face right between cute and chiseled, laid-back attitude.

And, yeah, if the guy needed some help sometimes — not that he would, even with the horse cock he'd be a fuckin' pussy magnet — Chad would help him out, probably, no biggie. Maybe they'd even pick up the same chick, the both of them fuck her. Chad fucking loved sloppy seconds, and after taking that horse cock — fuck, man. AJ was fucking huge, cock unsheathing in a rush, stiffening up. Fuck, maybe he'd have to coach the chick, work her open before AJ pushed inside, get her off a few times so she'd be slick and open, ready to take his bro's fat horsecock: cunt lips spread, pressed tight around his flat cockhead, dimpling until he'd finally push right in.

But onscreen it was just him: shifting now between AJ's forelegs, horsecock nearly jutting out in front, the crown of his fat horse cock just-barely cresting between his thighs. It was drooling, spilling a messy rope of pre onto the grassy ground, dribbling all down his hands as he played with the flared crown. He leaned forward — him in reality, that is — as if to get a better view, groaning at the sudden contact as his hardening cock pressed against the controller.

He pressed his lips against the dribbling tip, face shining as glistening pre slopped down his jaw and neck, tongue flitting out to lap at the bloated hole practically pissing out precome. He swallowed, throat jogging, and Chad mirrored the motion, drool heavy in the back of his mouth. AJ groaned, his hairy hands cupping Chad's head, mashing his face against his cockhead, and his moan came out in duplicate, amplified through the speakers with only the slightest echo.

His cock was jammed against the controller's nubs, hands unconsciously grinding it against the front of his mesh shorts. On-screen he was splattered in pre, hair matted to his skull and tufting up between AJ's thick fingers. His head bobbed, tongue dragging up and down the huge horse cock, catching mouthfuls of pre, dribbling past his lips between swallows. 

Chad's fingers bumped the control stick, eyes jerking down from the scene on-screen as he realized he still had control. Sliding the stick to the right he opened wide, not just worshiping the immense cockhead but trying to take it fully into his mouth: lips bruised and rubbery, mouth straining around the gristly rim of AJ's cock. He kept pushing, his in-game moan muffled as the cockhead finally sunk into his mouth, real-life echoing loud in the otherwise-empty room. His cheeks bulged, eyes tearing up, messy cords of pre spurting over his bruised lips, dribbling from his nose as Chad kept pushing, straining to swallow the horse cock.

AJ's arms flexed, pushing his head down, and Chad sunk forward, falling onto his hands and knees as he crawled under AJ's horse body. Chad's mouth was open, swallowing in time with his game avatar, mind vainly trying to imagine the sensations — the weight of that huge horse cock, the salt taste, the heat of the huge body above him, his bro's huge hands cupping his head, urging him on. He groaned again, cock kicking against the controller; a sudden rush of heat surged through him as he came in his shorts, grunting, eyes locked to the screen even as he rode out each spurt, smearing against his mesh shorts. In-game he kept slowly swallowing more and more cock — his throat was bulging more and more, bloated by the sheer size, Adam's apple distended and constantly jerking as he swallowed each gush of pre. His come seeped through his shorts, smearing the controller, sticky under his fingers as he jammed the analog stick to the side, pressing down until the plastic creaked in his hands.

The edges of the screen pulsed red, vignetting — health slowly trickling down as he choked on the gigantic horse cock, face red, pre hanging from his chin in jiggling tendrils, slapping and sticking to his bare chest each time he lurched forward. AJ stomped his hooves; neighed, panting as he bucked forward, sending inches of brutally-thick cock straight down Chad's throat, slime squirting out and painting his underbelly. He bellowed, head tipped back, haunches rippling as he fucked Chad's mouth, the fat swell of his medial ring slamming against his face as it lurched partway into his mouth and back out again, messily feeding him his cock. His entire cock lurched, sending Chad listing to the side, shoulder smacking against AJ's meaty foreleg, and he came in a torrent — horse cockhead flaring in his throat, distending grotesquely just above his collarbone, and he sprayed straight down into Chad's stomach, pulse after pulse hosing down his insides.

Chad was frozen at the controls, hard-again cock smearing through his load, sharp grunts bursting from his throat. AJ stepped back, his shaft emerging coated and running with cords of slime, gushing up from Chad's throat as he gurgled and spat, face shining from the mess coating it — he finally pulled out, Chad coughing up his cockhead followed by a gush of come, flooding from his mouth in a wash of thick white slime and spilling down his chest in a messy stream. Their breathing was perfectly matched; each gulping breath in-game matched by a hoarse rattle from Chad in his seat, tipped forward so sharply he was nearly falling from his seat.

AJ's cock was softening, drooping down to leak the final dribbles of his load, squirting down Chad's shuddering body and splattering across the grass, and Chad finally just tossed down the controller, hooked his soaked shorts under his balls, stroked his cock once, twice before he shot so hard he splattered all across the television.

* * *

So that was — so that was a thing that happened. Like it wasn't like AJ wasn't _hot_ , for a centaur who was also a video game character, but... it was weird. Like he'd had bros and maybe sometimes he'd wanted to, like, sit on top of them and kiss and grind on their dicks a little, just horseplay, but he'd never — he'd never wanted to do any of that.

But whatever. Actually all the videogames and the whole dorm room fiasco had kind of knocked him on his ass, gym-wise. He hadn't really gotten back in the flow. What he needed to stop doing was thinking about dumb gay video games. Down to the gym he went.

Out behind the gym building was a huge track oval, football field inside it, and on his way down the hill he could make out a guy racing around the track. A centaur, and — as he got closer — stripped totally naked. There wasn't much they could wear for support, after all, but man did it give him a good view. The guy was black with a tan coat, balls drawn up tight between his haunches, but they were so huge that each stride made them jounce sharply, like they'd been smacked hard. He was soaked in sweat, skin shining, coat lathered up, and thickly muscled all over, and — oh, fuck, it was AJ.

AJ caught sight of him when he next turned around, raising a hand and grinning, and by the time Chad hit the field AJ was cantering over, chest and flanks heaving.His underside was stained two shades darker from dirt, sprayed up as he galloped. The hair on his human half was sopping wet, plastered to his scalp, soaked in mats across his chest. The scent of his sweat was cloying, meaty and sweet at the same time, dizzying in its intensity.

"Holy shit, dude, I didn't know you were going here!" AJ said, bending down to pull Chad into a hug that lifted him entirely off his feet and left his tank dark where he'd pressed against AJ's chest.

"Me neither! Man, small world." Chad was — well. He'd gone adventuring for a while before college, just a few months ago, and he and AJ, well. They'd gotten up to some shit. Fuck, the memory was so vivid, Chad sinking to his knees in front of him, worshiping his cock, suckling on the head as it sprayed pre all across his face. Fuck, he was only wearing his jock and some mesh shorts, and as the memories came flooding back his cock thickened, lengthened, until it was so obvious.

AJ ducked his head and grinned, feeling around Chad's chest. "Still working out dude, that's cool." His hand slid lower, scraping down Chad's abs, and AJ took a half-step forward, bodies nearly pressed together: other hand curling over his bicep, squeezing, as he cupped his hand over Chad's hip, thumb dragging over the muscle of his abs, way, way close. "Man, you're even more ripped than before. Looks great," he said, breath buzzing over the shell of Chad's ear.

Chad wavered, listing forward drunkenly, huffing the wet scent of AJ's fresh sweat, AJ rubbing circles just an inch above his growing cock, and all he could think was, fuck, he wanted him to reach down, cup his cock, maybe even jerk him off right in the open.

Chad reached out, smearing his hands over AJ's sweaty chest, dragging over his heavy, hairy pecs, shoving the fabric out of the way so he could rub his thumb over his nipples, fat and swollen, pebbling up into thick fat corks. "You too, man, fuck. I don't remember you looking this —" _hot_ , he was gonna say. Fuck, he was so much hotter than he remembered.

"Thanks man," AJ said, stepping back, and Chad nearly collapsed without the contact, swaying forward.

Chad couldn't get him out of his head as he worked out, half-hard and sometimes more the entire way through, rock hard in his shorts as he did his last few reps on the weight bench. Someone should've kicked him out.

Instead he staggered up, sweaty and flushed, and went to the showers: literally running into AJ when he shouldered open the door. He was soaked with sweat, coat foamy with lather, shaggy fur soaked in thick tassels. His hooves clopped loudly on the tile floor, taking a half-step back as Chad just stared, watching the flex of his chest as he breathed, the horse muscles of his underbody in sharp relief against his soaked coat.

"Oh, hey man," AJ said, puffing as he spoke. "Good timing. Mind helping me out?"

"Yeah," Chad said instantly, stepping forward, hands already reaching out to drag over his coat—

"Fuck, I gotta clean up; got dirt all over. You mind helping?" AJ grinned and pulled Chad close, chest to chest, both of them sweaty and slick, Chad's mounded cock pressing against AJ's muscled hips.

The stalls for centaurs were longer than the others, and had showerheads on sticks, for cleaning their lengthy horse-bodies. Chad grabbed it, sent water squirting across AJ's haunches, cutting through the foaming lather of his sweat.

AJ turned to do — something — and Chad's gaze snapped to his ass. His tail was soaked to his skin, cords of horsehair pressed against his asshole, a thick flushed pink, almost doughnut-like, swollen and puffy-looking. The root of his cock was solid, bloating out almost directly under his asshole, running down in a broad swell, vanishing under his hanging balls. They were enormous, sagging now after his run — each one easily as big as both his fists put together, pulling the flesh of his sac taut around their massive size, skin shining under the sparse fur. Chad swallowed, hypnotized by the sight, AJ's muscled haunches shifting, asshole twitching, balls slowly swinging to the side, hitting his flank with a wet splat, so close droplets of water splashed Chad's legs, hot.

"— I said, hey, you gonna help?"

Chad's head snapped up, stammering out "Yeah, sure," before his brain caught up with anything. AJ was just looking at him, a grin on his lips. He was still panting from the run, chest heaving — with his hair soaked down his huge blocky muscles sharp on display, nipples fat and tight, jutting down from his heavy pecs. He swallowed, thick, aiming the showerhead up and spraying across AJ's entire body, the rippling coat of water just making his muscles stand out even sharper.

His blond fur really was messy, a murky brown all across the underside of his body from the sand and mud he'd churned up running, and when Chad aimed the flow of water down he groaned, horse legs spreading wide, the water muddy as it sluiced its way to the drain.

"You gotta clean underneath," AJ said, "Man, nothing worse than getting sand in your sheath, or like, stuck on your balls."

Chad wobbled on his feet, almost just falling to his knees. His cock was angled down the leg of his shorts, so obvious.

AJ's underbelly was muddy, sand grid worked into his short fur, but Chad's eyes instantly went to his sheath — splattered with mud like the rest of him, but just as gigantic as he knew it was: tip perpetually spread by the sheer size of his dick, balls pulled up taut behind the wrinkled flesh, nearly the size of basketballs. He aimed the hot water up across his belly, between his flanks, and AJ groaned, hooves clopping loudly as he spread his legs, balls swaying, sheath bouncing.

"Yeah, man," he said above, "gotta get in there, really clean it out."

Chad hosed across his sheath, leaning forward — hand pressing against AJ's meaty flank before he even thought about it, spraying water right into his sheath. His loose skin rippled, bloating with water before a frothy burble poured out, and AJ groaned again, hands braced against the wall. "Fuck, yeah," he groaned, sheath bulging as Chad flooded it, heavy flesh peeling back to show the bloated pink-purple swell of his cockhead, shining. He aimed the water lower, spraying his balls, and as the rest of the water poured off his cock it was clear he was drooling pre, turned thin and slobbery as the last of the water poured out, thicker and slimy as his cock started to unsheath. "Gotta— gotta get my ass, too, man," AJ said, hooves clopping forward, the curve of his flank leading right up to his fat horse ass, asshole huge. His tail twitched, dark blond strings of horsehair jerking across the puffy flesh, bulging minutely around them, before he twitched again, shaking his tail to the side, putting his plush asshole on display.

AJ was plastered against the wall, head and arms leaning against it, cock drooling underneath as Chad played with his ass — squirts of water running down the flesh. Chad reached up, peeling him open. The fat muscle spread like huge, swollen cunt lips around his fingers. He groaned — they both groaned, Chad transfixed, revealing more and more vividly pink flesh, soft and slippery, bulging around his fingers when he pressed down. AJ _neighed_ , head tossed back, the sound inhuman, and underneath his cock thumped loudly against his belly, pre hitting the wall with a sharp crack, smell pungent and rich. His forelegs sagged, ass up in the air, presented obscenely for Chad.

Chad shoved his fingers into AJ's ass, fucking him with two, three fingers, thumb rubbing up like he'd find a clit just under his tail. He whined high in his throat as AJ groaned and bucked back, the dark cord of his soaked tail twitching back and forth, raised high. Chad's fingers knocked against heavy flesh inside, walls of his ass solid muscle, and each hit made AJ's back spasm, a rippling kick of pre spraying below them.

"Fuck," Chad said, grinding forward, his cock pressed against AJ's flank, the mesh fabric soaked to his skin. "Fuck, fuck, I'm gonna—" and then before he could say anything else — before he could _think_ anything else — he jerked his shorts down, sinking his cock balls-deep into AJ's ass.

AJ groaned, pushing back almost strong enough to knock Chad on his ass, his cock giving a few rapid-fire slaps against his belly, spraying the bench below in pungent precome. Chad dropped the showerhead with a crash, gripping AJ's fat ass with both hands, pounding into the wet, gripping tunnel of his asshole, his balls beating a tattoo against the root of AJ's cock, body hunched forward over AJ's horse ass. He was talking, grunting, "Fuck, dude, you're so — _fuck!_ ", AJ groaning and demanding more, harder, whinnying with each _smack_ of contact.

AJ twisted around, Chad's gaze swinging up to stare blankly at his huge stretch, blocky muscles shifting as he reached out to pull him closer. He mumbled against Chad's lips: "Fuck, I nearly killed myself running with a hardon, thinkin' about you." He closed the gap, kissing Chad messily, the both of them huffing against the other's lips. "Dude, c'mon, I wanna feel it when you blow," he said, lips pressed against the corner of Chad's mouth, hand tugging on his side.

Chad came near-instantly, hips grinding wetly against AJ's ass, short sharp gasps erupting almost in time with his spurts, like AJ's hole was sucking the come right out of him. His hole convulsed, an obscene sucking slurp as it bowed and flexed around his shaft, and then AJ came too, completely hands-free — the muscle of his cock flexed, huge enough Chad could feel it from the inside rippling against his dick, and then he was spraying come across the stall, wet splat after splat as he hosed down the bench underneath, his horse come reeking of sex and musk.

Chad staggered back, cock pulling from AJ's ass with a _pop_ , a thin burble of his load leaking out afterward — nothing compared to the thick mess painting everything beneath them, the bench he'd been straddling flooded with watery come, drooling in lines through the slats and coating the floor, slowly winding into the stream of water from the discarded showerhead.

"Fuck," AJ said, legs wobbling as he tried to get them all under him again, twisting to face Chad. "Man, I really needed that." His cockhead'd been mashed right up against his forelegs when it'd gone off, and he was completely soaked in come, messy strings splashed up his stomach, even dripping down his pecs. A thick line clung to his right nipple, sweat thinning the slime, and it snapped and fell, droplet hitting the ground, splattering into the puddles of horse jizz that were slowly pouring toward the drain. He looked down, grinning at Chad's cock, still hard, his shorts soaked to his thighs just under his balls. "Guess you needed that too."

* * *

Chad slammed into his dorm room. Ma'ilele was there. Of course. "Fuck, I need your help. You're gay right?" The two of them just looked at each other. "Like, how do you — like what do gay dudes like?" He ran a hand across his head, hair still damp from his hurried shower after — afterwards.

"Uh," Nick said. "Maybe you should start at the beginning. Are you having a crisis of sexuality?" That was honest-to-god what he said _crisis of sexuality_ , and that was just about the least helpful thing he'd ever said, and even though Chad'd only known him a week he'd said a lot of useless shit.

Chad groaned. "No! I'm not gay! It's just, there's this one guy who... I dunno. Like, I blew him? I just don't wanna fuck up."

"You _blew_ him?"

"Uh yeah, I think you're familiar from the sounds I hear coming out of here, come on, get with it."

"So who's this guy?" Ma'ilele said, cutting between them.

"Oh. Uh. AJ? Like I met him a while back and, uh, I tried to blow him, except now he'd actually going here; I ran into him at the gym and..." Chad trailed off.

" _Tried_ to blow him?"

"Well he's got a horse dick, y'know, centaur, so it was... kinda a challenge."

"Wait, your friend is a _centaur_?"

"Huh? Uh, yeah. Like I kinda went adventuring for a while before college. Like, the fields of Elbane, you know, with all the goblinoids—"

Nick's eyes were basically bugging out. " _Adventuring_?! Elbane? Goblinoids?!"

Ma'ilele checked Nick in the shoulder, cutting him off. "Man, don't give him the third degree."

Chad gave him a grateful smile. Nick was... okay, he figured, but he was pretty weird.

Ma'ilele spoke up. "Just do what you wanna do, man. Sounds like he's okay with whatever you're doing, so just... do that? Not like everyone likes the same thing after all."

"Uh, yeah, I guess." Chad shifted his weight. "Thanks, I guess. And like... I guess I could hang out with him instead of playing dumb games, so like... I mean— don't spend every night fucking or whatever, but like... at least I have somewhere to hang out if you do."

Which was the wrong thing to say: Ma'ilele's smile turned toothy, hand slipping under Nick's shirt, claws digging down under the waist of his shorts. The entire gigantic swell of his cock lurched sharply, the snap of seams loud, and a dark flush flooded over Nick's cheeks.

"Dude!" Nick said, but it was a pretty token objection, hips jerking forward to mash his huge dick against Ma'ilele, a dark splotch already soaking through his shorts.

"Dudes— you know what, forget it, I'll be down with AJ," Chad said, turning to go. Rolling his eyes.

"Get it, man!" Ma'ilele yelled as he shut the dorm door, followed by ripping fabric, the _thump_ of Nick's cock hitting the ground like someone dropped a weight. Chad was definitely had mixed feelings about Ma'ilele. The dude was nice and all but his sex drive was just... through the roof.

* * *

So back at the gym: AJ, wearing clothes this time. He had a racerback tank on, clinging to his muscles, one with the sleeves slit nearly to his waist. He had a leather peytral on like a fat belt, anchoring the drapes of fabric that hung down over his horse body. Every time he stretched his arms his shirt slid up, dark nipples flashing into view for an instant, pebbling up into fat meaty nubs as he kept talking. He scratched his stomach once, hem riding up and revealing the messy swath of hair as it fanned out between his human and horse halves, peytral sagging down to show off his thick horse muscles, a broad strip of skin and fur that Chad wanted to press his hands against, sink to his knees right there and run his hands over his muscles until his horse cock was pissing out pre all over him. Chad spent the entire conversation staring at AJ's chest, so turned on it hurt, nodding whenever AJ paused.

He'd run into AJ on the way over, waving to get his attention, and Chad could not remember a single thing he'd said the entire time.

"— head over?" AJ said, and Chad's gaze swam up, almost dizzy from looking. "Head back to my place, y'know, just chill?"

'Oh fuck we're gonna fuck again,' was all that went through Chad's head. Fuck, he was so turned on, his hard dick was so obvious, a big fat line down his shorts. He was so head-over-heels for the guy it was just sad. Well they were gonna fuck; it wasn't that sad. Fuck, they were gonna _fuck_! "Sure," Chad said, voice cracking at first.

Chad didn't have time to freak out much; AJ's place was basically only a block away from the gym, a low-slung building with a double-E layout. Dorms for the mythological creatures that had issues with stairs or elevators: AJ would just about fill an elevator by himself, and if Chad was there with him they'd have to cram together. Like Chad riding on his back together.

Which became a whole fantasy up until AJ shoulder-checked the door to his dorm open and headed in. The two of them were alone again, in a nice little dorm room: big windows, ceramic tile floor, mattress and boxspring on the ground, standing desk, minifridge. AJ offered him a drink, but he just stammered and mumbled.

"Don't be nervous, man," AJ said, closer. "You got nothing to be nervous about, anyway." He leered down Chad's body, the most overt eye-fucking he'd ever gotten.

"It's just—" Chad jiggled his leg, nervous twitch tapping against the floor. "I mean— I'm not— I'm not even gay, man!"

"Don't worry about it, bro." AJ was close, hands wrapped around his biceps, face inches away. "You like it, right?" His hands skimmed down Chad's shirt, palms scraping up his chiseled abs. "Cause I sure like it. Man, you got such a hot body." He reached under the hem of Chad's shirt, shoving it up around his hairy forearms, and tweaked one of Chad's nipples; tugging, twisting. Chad groaned, sagging into him, heat flooding across his front.

AJ reached higher, tank pushed up to his collarbone, palms running over the dark loops of his chest piece. "I saw you at the gym the other day. Waited until you finished so I could ambush you in the shower. I wanted to blow you when you did your bench presses." He chuckled a little. "Prob'ly wouldn'tve been safe."

Heat rushed through Chad at the thought: him just lying on the bench, his huge centaur bro kneeling on the ground, hips grinding his fat horse cock on the ground as he slurped on his cock, fuck, yeah. AJ kept talking, voice rasping, so close he could feel the vibrations where he was pressed against AJ's barrel chest. "I love your dick; felt so fucking good inside me. And, fuck, your _mouth_."

"Y-Yeah," Chad said, face pressed against AJ's chest, hot and smooth, slow curves of thick muscle shifting under his skin.

"And you like me, right? We're bros, right?"

Chad nodded, face flushed, and AJ tipped his head up, closed the distance between them, mouths pressing together in an open-mouthed kiss, teeth tugging at his lower lip. AJ pulled back first, Chad almost whining, and AJ bowed his head, pressing his lips against his jaw, then down his neck, biting down hard. Chad jerked up, a sharp moan ripped from his throat, cock throbbing as he ground up against AJ's body.

"So don't worry about it. Do what you wanna do," AJ said as he pulled back, leaving Chad red-faced, mouth slack, breathing hard. "I think I owe you a few, actually—" and he dragged his palms down Chad's chest, grabbed the spar of his cock, outlined perfectly by a fold in his loose mesh shorts. AJ's legs folded under him, leaning forward to press his lips against the joint of Chad's thigh, tugging his shorts down so his cock swung out, slapping against the stubbled line of his jaw. "You want me to pay you back?"

Chad groaned, inarticulate, and AJ grinned before swallowing him down, mouth open as he sucked in his shaft, lips closing halfway down, tongue flitting up along the underside, coating it in drool. Chad jerked forward and AJ took it all, tip dipping into his throat as he swallowed expertly, lips spread right at the base, nose flattened against his pubes, throat milking his cockhead.

AJ swallowed, throat working his cockhead, tongue pressed against the base of his shaft. He pulled off with a pop, threads of slime webbing between his lips and the tip of Chad's cock. He swiped them up, stroking the mess down his shaft, and leaned in. He nuzzled the tip, lips playing with the ridge, eyes burning dark as he looked up, grinning around Chad's dick as he started stroking him off.

Chad just groaned, hands fluttering around AJ's skin until the centaur finally reached up, pressing Chad's hands solidly against his shoulder, curving over his scalp, buzzed-short blond fuzz prickling under his palm. "You wanna fuck my mouth?" he said, voice buzzing around Chad's dick, and he just groaned, thrusting forward. AJ swallowed him down, taking each thrust, balls slapping his chin, wet heat suckling on his cock, tongue swiping along the underside, grunting and drooling. He took each of Chad's hammering thrusts, all the way up until Chad groaned and came, cock spurting messy dribbles in the back of AJ's throat. He pulled back so he could lap at the underside of Chad's cockhead, catch each spurt on his tongue before swallowing, a wet blob of come smearing over his flushed lips.

AJ stayed there for a minute, nursing on his cock, lapping at the underside until Chad winced, laughing, and shoved him back. He got to his feet, the reek of pre billowing out: he'd been oozing pre the entire time he'd been blowing Chad, his underbelly webbed with dripping strings of pre, splattering down to the soaked tiles. Chad just wanted to — but they were here, they were doing it, so he didn't have to think about it.

He sunk down, knees hitting the ground hard enough to hurt, and wrapped his hands around AJ's forelegs. His cockhead was neatly framed between them, jutting out an inch. His shaft spanned his entire underbelly, curving out and down minutely, pink-purple and shining with pre. It twitched, the whole length slapping sharp against AJ's dripping underbelly and rebounding with a _crack_ , a gush of pre splattering the floor, fat flared tip erupting with a fresh burst that sprayed Chad's face, acrid in his mouth, drooling down his neck.

"You like it, huh?" AJ said, rolling his hips — flanks shaking, flexing his cock again, hosing Chad down with another spurt. "You dig the horse cock, don't you?"

Chad was beet red, flushed from hairline to mid-chest, tanned skin burnt red. He nodded, though. "Fuck, man, anyone would. You're so fucking hot. Big muscles, big dick — any chick'd be lucky to get you."

AJ mussed his hair, grinding the mess of his pre across Chad's scalp. "I got you instead, though. And man, I got lucky. Fuck, it was so hot. You were so hot. On your knees — trying to suck me off. So fuckin' hot, seeing you choke on my cock." He grinned, eager; just amped up, horny. "Wanna try again?"

Chad just moaned, finally closing the distance — smearing his face against the tip of AJ's horse dick, opening wide, dragging his tongue over the tip, curling over the circular rim. AJ's hands came down, cupping his head, and he jerked forward, entire lower body heaving as he thrust forward, rubbing his cockhead back and forth over Chad's face. The point-blank squirts of pre were like getting shot in the face with a water gun full of hot water, Chad sputtering and spitting, swallowing the runny mess of pre even though most of it just spilled down his face, streamed in rivulets down his chest.

Chad wrapped his lips around the swell at the center of AJ's dick, the tube of his cock bulging up and out from his cockhead, and took the next shot right into his mouth. His cheeks bulged, gulp-gulp-gulp before it was all swallowed, and that was barely enough time to drink it before AJ's cock thumped against his belly and sprayed a fresh gush into his mouth. Chad coughed, pre spraying from his mouth, pouring across AJ's cockhead and splattering the ground. AJ's fingers twitched, digging into his jaw, and Chad opened wide, trying to cram the entire cockhead into his mouth. Slow, gurgling and choking each time AJ shot into the back of his mouth, spilling over his lips, pre burning through his sinuses to drip from his nose.

"Ah, fuck, wait —" AJ pushed him back, what little of his cockhead that Chad'd managed to fit in pulling out, a sea of pre flooding from his gaping mouth. "Fuck, gimmie a second." His cock was absolutely pissing pre, a constant flow dribbling down his cockhead, spiking erratically into an eruption that sprayed all across Chad's body.

"Was it—" Chad's voice was wrecked, warbling and choked, and he had to cough and swallow before he could talk. "Fuck, did I do something wrong?"

"Nah, babe, that was great." AJ grinned down at him and Chad grinned back, taking another blast of pre across his teeth. "Don't wanna come too soon. Don't wanna come in your mouth, I wanna come in your fucking _stomach_. I want you to be fuckin' kissing my sheath when I come."

Chad groaned, cheeks beet red. It was like... it was okay. Like he wanted to do all sorts of dirty shit, but when he was with a girl, well, they hadn't really appreciated that kind of shit. Or him _saying_ it at least. But AJ saying it to him, yeah, that was good.

AJ took a step back, cock knocking against his forelegs, extending the messy puddle beneath them with a ragged line. "Get on the bed," he said, tugging Chad's shoulders forward. He wobbled and sat on the bed, the next _thump_ of AJ's cock splattering shockingly-hot droplets across his shoulders, streaming in rivulets down his chest. He was soaked, from neck to knee glazed in AJ's pre, his cock already achingly hard again.

"C'mon." He tugged Chad into position: on his back, head tipped back at the very edge of the mattress. "Fuck, man," he said, thick fingers dragging over Chad's jaw, thumb parting his lips, pressing against his teeth. "You're so hot." AJ grabbed something from his desk, pulling a stopper with a _pop_ : a potion of regeneration.

Chad grinned. "You been planning this, huh?" He opened wide, letting AJ pour it into his mouth, syrupy and grossly sweet after he'd had gotten used to the salty reek of horse pre. He swallowed, grimacing, and AJ bowed down, pressing a short kiss to his lips before rising.

"Man, don't play, I been thinking about your mouth on my dick since the first time you blew me." AJ stepped closer, half-climbing onto the mattress, one huge hoof tilting the surface; Chad rolled down the slope, AJ's huge leg digging into his side. He shimmied closer to the edge of the bed, head angled off the side: staring full-on at AJ's cock peeking out between his forelegs, slimy and reeking, a steady stream of pre drooling onto the floor, the fat tip twitching and flaring as AJ shifted his weight. And him, about to get speared through from mouth to stomach.

Chad swallowed again, the sugary taste of the potion sticking to his teeth, slowly being washed away by all the pre. "So go for it."

AJ rose up, both front hooves stomping the mattress, cock following behind in slow-motion, so heavy it lagged behind. It mashed against the side of his face, splattering him in messy tendrils of pre. The heavy cockflesh was rubbery as it dragged up the side of his cheek, gristly flesh leaving sloppy smears over his skin as AJ ground his cock forward, trying to get it at just the right angle. Chad wrapped his hands around the shaft — as far around as he could fit them, at least — and guided it to his mouth. He opened wide, tongue dragging lines through the filmy mess coating the tip, lips barely catching on one edge of the furled ridge of his cockhead, and then AJ drove in.

The potion did its job, or else Chad would've ended up with a broken jaw. It sure as hell wasn't like when he was the one in control. It was like getting punched in the face with no end, the impact a constant pressure. But AJ was the one driving, and he rammed in, too eager to wait. A single spurt of pre flooded his mouth, gurgling messily out around the loose seal of his stretched lips, and Chad sputtered, swallowing and spitting as AJ's cock knocked across his mouth. His jaw warped, creaking and stretching like wet wood, lips gone rubbery and thick.

AJ bellowed, groaning, and _slammed_ inside, feet of his cock plunging down Chad's throat. Last time it'd been all him, nursing on the cock, pushing himself to take more. Now it was all AJ, lurching and grunting, flanks creaking and heaving above him. His horse cock sunk deeper, Chad's throat wrapped around the fat shaft, clenching and convulsing. Chad gurgled, spitting out messy cords of pre and phlegm, reflexively swallowing as AJ thrust, hooves walking over the mattress as he inched forward, cock driving an inch back and then two forward, sinking deeper and deeper inside.

There was a messy _pop_ when it hit his collarbone, flare already twitching, entirely spearing through his throat. It lurched, twitching up, and pulled Chad's body with it, slapping him against AJ sweaty underbelly, face mashed into matted fur, sodden clumps leaving greasy smears across his face. Weight settled in his stomach, the constant flood of pre building up, gurgling and sloshing in his stomach as he shifted back and forth on the mattress, the entire thing lurching to the side as AJ shifted his weight.

The fingers-thick ridge midway down his cock jammed against Chad's face, kissing his bruised lips and pulling back webbed with slime. Gooey strings drew out, spit and pre and phlegm, drooling from Chad's wrecked mouth and clinging to AJ's medial ring. AJ drove forward again, the ridge pressing against Chad's bruised lips and slowly pushing past, cock arching like a bow, tension growing and growing until it finally slurped inside and then slammed into his throat, inches of his fat shaft pummeling into his broken-wide throat in an instant. AJ's groan shook his entire body, resonating down his cock. It twitched inside him, wet slaps echoing from his overfilled stomach as the latest blast of pre erupted into the sloshing mess already filling him, gurgling as AJ sawed back and forth, rutting his medial ring through Chad's busted throat, groaning each time Chad choked and gurgled, messy froth drooling from his mouth and coating his upturned face. Halfway there.

He went cross-eyed staring at the rest of the cock, all smooth and glistening, streamers of ooze gurgling from his stretched lips and spilling down the shaft. Ooze drooled down his face, spilling across his eyes, and he squinted before closing them entirely, focusing on the sensation, on the aching fullness of AJ's cock sinking inside him, a living thing pulsing and spurting, flesh slick and slippery as it spilled past his open lips, jaw stretched beyond what would be breaking were it not for the potion.

AJ groaned loudly, sinking forward — his hands touched Chad's sides, abstract points of contact. It was like he was dragging himself forward, squeezing his too-big cock into Chad's too-small throat. Each pulse of pre jerked his body, the tremor of his cock sending Chad's chest fluttering. Chad reached up, hands stroking AJ's underbelly, reaching back to just-barely wrap around his flanks, fingertips curled around his hind legs, pulling him forward.

The shaft sunk deeper and Chad gagged, throat convulsing, gurgling as he spat up a messy slurry of pre, squirting from his stretched lips and splattering across AJ's exposed cockflesh, drooling down his upturned face, flooding his nose and spilling across his tightly shut eyes. His mouth was just an open hole for AJ to fuck, each gag clenching around the shaft, stroking it off. He clenched, fingers digging into the meaty muscle of AJ's flanks, his groan just a gurgle, coughing around the mammoth horse cock embedded in his throat. Almost there.

Chad swallowed and swallowed, palms pressed hard against AJ's hind legs. The cockhead felt like a second heart, each beat flooding his body with an oily kind of warmth, sloshing and gurgling in his stomach as more and more erupted into him. AJ was grunting and gasping above him, hands raking down his sides, studiously avoiding Chad's own cock, rock hard, bobbing against his stomach. The moment of contact came as a surprise: flesh dragging against his face, leathery and soft, and Chad squinted one eye open to see AJ's balls nearly pressed against his face. AJ jerked forward one final time and his balls smashed forward, sheath pressed right up against his mouth. He bore down, neighing as his sheath pillowed up, shoving the very root of his horse dick into Chad's throat, bitter and salty.

AJ's cannonball nuts completely covered Chad's face, drenched in sweet-smelling horse sweat, the heat radiating off them like an inferno, churning and jostling as his immense sac tightened and fell. Chad's lips were rubbery and aching, mouth stretched way beyond capacity, and each each gurgle and gag spat a messy slurry of spit and pre right into the waiting sheath, bulging the loose flesh around his cock. Every time AJ moved the loose seal of Chad's lips against his sheath broke with a squelch, sending lumpy squirts of clear-white slime spilling back out, filling the space between his face and AJ's huge horse nuts. Ooze smeared down his beet-red face, soaking his hair, collecting in the shell of his ear, clogging his burbling nose, finally spilling down the sides of his face in huge jiggling tendrils, each line snapping and hitting the ground with a wet crack.

AJ groaned, unmoving — trying his best to keep himself on the edge, only rocking back and forth gently. He let Chad gag and gurgle and swallow, muscles from lips to stomach convulsing and clenching around his fat horse cock, a wet tube of suction spread around the meat of his cock. AJ said something, voice rumbling through his skin, audible where Chad was pinned against his underbelly. Everything sounded watery and far away. Not that he needed AJ to say anything: he could feel it.

AJ's cock was starting to flare, the crown straining against Chad's stomach. He was bloated, sloshing with pre, but even still the circular ridge showed clear, bulging out from his body, just an inch above his hips. AJ's hand on Chad's skin was just too much: his hand clapping down over the swell, fingers toying with the stubbled hair across his belly. Chad moaned, entire body shuddering, squeezed-shut eyes rolling back in his head as he shot off uncontrollably, cock firing completely untouched. String after string of come lanced across AJ's hand, splattering against his chest and stomach — not much compared to the wet sheen that was still dripping from Chad's body.

Chad's moans came out as more gurgles, hips jerking up and grinding the flare of AJ's cock against his underbelly, his skin just a thin barrier between the two. AJ's cock was like a spear running him through, iron-hard, his entire body conforming around it, milking and squeezing as he came and came, balls pulled up so tight they almost jerked back inside his body. His skin seemed incredibly sensitive, sensation racing over him — the wet grind of his skin dragging against AJ's sodden coat, the wet spill of slime oozing down his sides and soaking the bed. He went limp, hanging there boneless, just letting the sensation run through him as his cock pulsed out the last of his load, dribbling down to his pubes. AJ said something else, laughing, hand smearing come across his skin, palms bracketing Chad's hips, fingers digging into the side of his ass.

AJ's hooves shifted, cock rippling. He shifted, cock slurping back an inch, a flood of slime gurgling up Chad's throat and spraying across his sheath. AJ bellowed, an animal neigh, and started thrusting. His fat sheath smacked against Chad's mouth, nuts grinding against his face, stiff hair like stubble rasping over his skin. AJ's cock rippled, muscles in his underbelly seizing and jerking, and a half-second later the first pulse of his load shot up through his cock. It hit Chad like a punch to the gut, gurgling and sloshing as it erupted into his swollen stomach, mixing up the mess stewing inside him: turning it thicker and heavier, the currents buffeting his insides churning slower each time as his load thickened the mess into tar. AJ's flare grew, a hollow sucking inside him as it forced open the passageway to his guts, the mess in his bloated stomach flooding even deeper inside him as AJ filled him up completely.

Chad just laid there, dazed, body fucked open, mouth to stomach a gaping sheath for AJ's horse dick. AJ was shooting straight into his guts, pulse after pulse. Inside and out he was completely coated in horse come, reeking slime spilling across his skin and bloating his body, still erupting up his throat as he gagged on the spurting shaft. He didn't know how long it went on for, an eternal timeless moment, lost in the sensation of being filled so far beyond capacity, almost dozing as AJ filled him up, and up, and up.

AJ's spurts slowed, finally, and his flare shrunk down. His hind legs jerked, shifting in Chad's loose grip, and he let his hands fall as AJ took a wobbling step back. The withdrawal felt like it was hollowing him out, like AJ'd fucked open a passageway in him that would never close. Horse jizz surged up around the withdrawing length, erupting out around his lips — even that massive gush of grimy white come barely making an impact, compared to the sodden mess he was already. Chad gagged and gagged, AJ's softening shaft saturated and dripping, underbelly painted white. His medial ring popped out, Chad's jaw clicking, and the gags became less and less differentiated, becoming a constant flood of frothing come, erupting out of him in a constant waterfall.

When AJ's cockhead finally popped out of him — that's the word for it, _pops_ , the flare still slightly swollen, catching on the backs of his lips and pulling, distending his entire face out until finally his lips gave and the entire thing slopped out and slapped across his face, dead weight as it softened — it felt like there's an open trench all the way through him, come draining right out of him. It took a while for him to realize he's not stuck under the bulk of a centaur; he rolled to the side there aren't any hooves bracketing him in.

So he rolled over, groaning, his belly sloshing and rolling. "Oh fuck," he groaned, coughing and then spitting up another mouthful of come — his entire head was soaked, and now that he's sat up it's dripping down his chest. His belly was stretched out grotesquely, impossibly, the flesh from just under his ribs to his pelvis stretched out in a wobbling globe, thick red bands of stretch marks all across his sides. Not like fat, like a fucking _waterbed_ , skin and muscle stretched over a huge reservoir of horse come. "Fuck," he said again, watery. He gagged on nothing, throat still convinced he was impaled on a horse dick, and spat up a gummy mass of come, spilling down his wrecked face in finger-thick lines. He swallowed, dragging the back of his hand over his face, and then AJ was there with a towel, a single wipe across his face saturating it.

"Fuck, that's not in the diet plan," Chad said, still dazed, just saying the first thing that came to mind.

AJ leaned in, mouth hanging open, panting hard, hands feeling across Chad's gut, leaving tracks in the slime that coated him head to toe. "Protein," AJ said, grinning. "It's good for you, dude." He leaned in, palm smacking Chad's gut, watching it ripple. "Gonna work it all off, turn my load into big muscles." His hand slid up, gripping Chad's beefy bicep: "Fuck, dude, you got such a good body," and then they were kissing again, AJ lapping up his neck, tongue slathered in the mess of come that'd drooled down, swallowing just before their mouths met and then groaning into the kiss.

Chad groaned, voice cracked and broken, grunting into AJ's mouth as he rutted up, eyes rolling back into his head as AJ grabbed his cock — pressed up against the curve of his bloated belly — and stroked him off, just the feeling of his thick fingers wrapping around his dick enough to get him to blow again, spraying lances of come across AJ's stomach. He collapsed on his side, the slosh of his stretched belly like a punch, and after a second AJ dragged him back up. "C'mon," he said. "Let's get you into the shower, and _then_ you can crash." And then, looking at the absolute wreck of the bed: "Well, maybe some other stuff too."

* * *

"Uh, so, I think I'm gonna move in with AJ. Like, he's got this huge single down by the gym, and, uh, I think it'll work out real well." He paused. "Like, not that I don't like you, but _man_ you two fuck a lot." So that was how Chad made his exit from his thankfully not-so-eternal purgatory of having a roommate who was just, fucking _all the time_.

* * *

"So like, why didn't he turn into his barbarian dude anyway?"

Ma'ilele shrugged. "He's not into that kinda thing. Like, he goes to the gym and works out; he likes the whole process. A magic shortcut wouldn't really be his thing."

"But he'd appreciate a magical boyfriend?"

"Oh, yeah, totally. _Everyone'd_ appreciate a magical boyfriend."

"I'm pretty sure he's not even gay."

"He's got exceptions. And it just so happens I put together one big exception for him. Plus a horse dick. Honestly the centaur part is what really pushed it over the line for him, like, he's super into it. Like, he's amazed he landed a catch like that."

"I don't know, it seems like of... creepy."

"Hey, he's into it, his boyfriend's into it. Everybody's getting what they want. And now we can fuck without worrying about disturbing him!"

"We already — I mean, we kicked him out to fuck like, all the time."

"Yeah, and I'm saying, now we don't have to feel bad about it. Everyone wins!"

"I _guess_."


	3. The Nightwoods

There was a troll in one of Henry's classes. Like, a literal one. 10:00AM, Hawkins Hall, CHEM 125B, Principles of Chemistry. Henry had scrambled in nearly-late, not yet entirely on schedule for a class that early, and had taken a seat all the way up in the back without really consciously noticing just who he was sitting next to.

The troll was in, Henry realized on reflection, the dimmest corner of the room, away from the bank of windows on the other side of the room and the indirect light from the hallway skylights down by the door. For all that he (probably 'he'?) was avoiding the sunlight, he wasn't really dressed for it — a ragged undershirt that had huge tears up one side, revealing a broad wedge of bare... hide above his waist, and a pair of mesh shorts that ended just before his knees. He had a pair of huge black sunglasses covering his face, perched on an inhumanly long nose.

Plus, he was a _troll_. He didn't fit into the seat at all. His knobbly legs stuck out past the underside of the desk, and his clawed feet were resting on the arms of the seat the next row down. Even sitting and slouching he was probably about as tall as Henry would be standing up; he towered over Henry in his seat. The troll looked lean and stick-like just from how tall he was, but up close it was clear that his spindly arms and legs were far thicker than Henry's; he was just so much _taller_ that his proportions were all strange. He was doodling on a scrap of paper, loops and lopsided stars, and the pen looked more like a toothpick in his hands — his hands were huge even on his gigantic body, the ridge of his knuckles looking nearly a foot across, and when he splayed out his fingers they'd probably be bigger than Henry's entire torso.

Also he was purple and covered in warts. Or maybe it was more like blisters, a bubbling froth that covered his entire body in waxy bunches. His hide was a muddy purple, becoming thicker and richer where he was most blistered, growing to a deep emerald-purple color. His hair was done in thick dreadlocks, spilling down nearly to the floor behind him, and daubed with something like old candlewax, white-green. The hanks were completely smooth, the only crinkles and cracks showing on the surface near the root, where thinner strands were coiled around larger ones.

Henry realized he was staring, though, and looked away quickly, only to realize as he did that the troll's face had been angled at him the entire time, and with the sunglasses on the troll had probably been staring right back. He turned back to stare down at his desk, blushing furiously, and didn't even notice the instructor entering the room until he started talking.

* * *

So that was the class. Henry spent most of it distracted. Afterwards, though:

"Hey, can I, uh, borrow your hoodie?" the troll said. "I really wasn't expecting it to be this bright."

"Uh," Henry said, shrugging out of it. "Sure?"

The troll draped the hoodie over his shoulders and then shrugged, tugging his dreads up and to the side to get them out from under the fabric, in a motion that seemed like it took minutes.

"Uh, we kinda petrify in direct sunlight. It's a mess." And then, "Oh," he said, turning back to him like he'd forgotten. "I'm Kraggurok; Rok to basically everybody, hey, sup."

"Henry," Henry said.

The moved out of the classroom, to the building's exit, and Rok gingerly approached the line on the floor where the sun shone through the doorway. He inhaled and then burst out into a dash, running with Henry's hoodie draped over his shoulders, yelping as he dashed across the quad. Henry followed, running full-out to try and keep up with Rok's loping strides — it didn't take that long to get to Rok's dorm building, but Rok hit the doorway a full ten seconds before Henry did, stepping inside and lurking into some shadow, only reaching out to shove the door open so Henry could get inside. Henry doubled over, panting to catch his breath, dimly aware of Henry skirting around the huge splash of sunlight. The door was glass, and the wall beside it was also glass, painting the floor and most of a wall in sunlight.

Rok was _steaming_ , smoke wisping out from him in plumes. His purple hide had gone grey in splotches, petrified into thick spars of stone basically all over the place.

"Woah, are you okay?"

Rok rolled his shoulders, and a sheet of rock peeled off his forearm and crashed to the ground, exploding into chunks. Rok made a face at the rubble. "Yeah, I'm fine. It heals up like, instantly. C'mon." And he lead Henry out of the sunlit foyer into the darker hallway beyond, out to the dimly-lit rear stairs and then up.

In the stairwell: "I guess they got way more nonhuman students this year than they expected, so I ended up in a human dorm. Above ground. It kinda sucks, but at least I got a double to myself," Rok explained, animated despite how he was petrified into splotchy blocks, chunks of stone occasionally peeling away as Rok scratched between gestures, the crash of rubble cascading down the steps echoing loudly in the concrete stairwell.

Four flights up, Rok shoved open the stairwell door; his dorm was at the end of the hall. The inside of Rok's room was dim: he'd drawn the blinds and then hung a sheet over the window, so there was only a dim filtration of light out at the edges.

Rok immediately flopped down onto the floor with a groan — as Henry eyes adjusted to the dimness, he could see that Rok had taken both the mattresses off the beds and laid them out next to each other between the two frames, which given the size of the room meant that there was a few square feet of floorspace by the door, and then the entire rest of the room was taken up by the mattresses and the now-bare bedframes. Rok stretched, groaning deeply, and even with both mattresses... the proportions weren't right; with them side-by-side his arms and legs still hung off the side. Rok squirmed, shimmying his shoulders against his bedsheets. The rocky petrification cracked apart as so much dust, his groan turning into a whine as he flopped over onto his back, forearm still over his eyes.

Henry closed the door, realizing he was still just standing there in the frame, and that cut off nearly all the remaining light, plunging the room into a twilight darkness. He blinked, the lighting in the room seeming off, and slowly realized Rok's hair was glowing, dimly phosphorescent, the thick wax giving off a pale green-white glow.

"Still not used to how _bright_ it is," Rok said. "Back in the Great Swamp we could go around at midday, no problems. I should've taken night classes, I guess, but..." he trailed off, shrugging. A shard of rock across his shoulders caught on the sheets and came partially dislodged, and he scratched at it, peeling it off like shed skin.

"It's so itchy," he said, scratching, claws digging under the edges of the rock shards, peeling them off one by one. "Hey, help me out?" he asked, talons still hooked into the rim of a particularly stubborn chunk of rock on his shoulder. He'd pushed his shirt up as he twisted around, and there was a flat spread of rock visible right over his hip, just next to his tail, its rough surface vanishing just under the waist of his shorts.

Henry took a step closer, hands reaching but not quite touching. Rok really stretched the bounds of 'humanoid'; he was a stick-thin giant but he looked nearly hunchbacked under the muscle across his shoulders and back, and his gut was swollen in what would be a potbelly, except for the thick ridges of muscle there, in inhuman configurations. He was a towering giant, and that was with his exaggerated slouch; actually laid out on the floor he seemed even taller. All his proportions were so wrong; the warted purple skin was nothing in comparison.

Rok glanced over, seeing Henry just standing there, and shimmied a little closer, pressing his side against Henry hands. Rok's skin was burning hot, rough with waxy warts. "C'mon, dig in," he said.

Henry slid his hands down until he touched the lip of a rocky scab, skin all the hotter at the seam where his flesh met the petrified rock. Henry dug in, fingernails scrabbling at the rock. It gave, slightly, with a soft kind of sound, and Henry pulled harder, skin squelching as the rock peeled off like so much sunburnt skin, revealing pale purple skin, oozing clear fluid and already bubbling up with fresh blisters as troll regeneration kicked in. Rok groaned, stubby tail thumping back and forth.

"Yeah, that's it," he groaned, sprawling across the bed, twisting more to align the next rocky blotch under Henry's fingers, down his thigh, vanishing under the waist of his shorts. Henry slid his fingers around the edge, looking for a place to grip, and Rok hooked a talon on his shorts and dragged them down, half the curve of his ass on display.

Henry swallowed, flushing, Rok's skin just so, so hot, minutely damp with the watery lymph oozing from under the rocks. He dug in, peeling away the other slab, and Rok let out a deep, rumbling groan, vibrating under him.

Rok twisted, sharp little pebbles cascading down his hide. He went, "Oh, hey, hold on a sec," and lifted Henry up one-handed, moving him as easily as picking up a textbook, the flat of his spread hand as big as a seat.

Rok shucked off his shirt in one easy motion and used it as a rag to dust off the bed, a spray of rock shards falling down to the carpet, and then hooked Henry in one huge arm and pulled him right back in, pressed up against Rok's bare skin.

Rok's bare chest was just as thickly warted as the rest of his skin; Henry'd seen most of it in glimpses already, his shirt didn't cover him up much. Lean pectorals; no nipples, unless they were buried under all the warts. Rok stretched again, pecs stretching up with the motion, hide creaking. He groaned and held the position, fully outstretched arms nearly long enough to wrap around the rim of the upper bunk, and Henry was hit again by just how _huge_ he was, all lanky limbs curled in tight until he did something like that.

Rok twisted again, bare back on display, a messy splotch of rock still stuck just under his shoulder blade. Henry dug in, fingernails catching on the rim and peeling it away in a single sheet, Rok moaning under him. The sheet of rock was nearly the size of a dinner plate, old warts and lumps frozen in place; the pale flesh beneath bubbled up, thick sap-like lymph smearing over his raw skin, forming a new collection of thick warts, all different.

"Fuck, thanks," Rok said, panting a little, scratching at his fresh skin. "I really wasn't ready for all the—" and he waved his hand vaguely, "— sunlight, you know, whatever."

"Are you, uh—" Henry said, pausing as he cast around for however people were supposed to say it. "Not from around here?"

Rok laughed a little. "Yeah, I guess. It's like, the swamp? Way over there—" and he pointed in a direction Henry assumed was like, _some_ kinda cardinal direction. "I think it's on your maps as uh the Nightwoods or something like that."

"You're from a place called the _Nightwoods_??"

Rok rolled over. "Well, that's not what we call it. But sure."

"What do you call it?"

"'M from Defilement Hall, it's the biggest encampment down there. But, you know, in troll. The whole place is called, like... Death Pit? I guess, but that's not a real great translation. Sounds way better in troll."

"Um, right."

"But it's like— there are fumes there? It's always foggy so the sun isn't really a big deal. I really wasn't expecting it to be so, like, bright." Rok glared over at the window, dingy cracks of sunlight still managing to peek around the edges of the sheets he'd hung up. "Getting to class is such a mess."

"So, it's like, a troll city or something?"

"I guess? Well, there're humans down in Defilement Hall, but they're not really... like you."

"Like me?"

"Like... they're all purple, spit poison. Like I guess everything there is poisonous? To humans. Most of 'em wear animal skulls 'n shit. I wasn't expecting all y'all to be so, like. Short." He gestured a hand at hip height, which, Rok might be tall but Henry wasn't _that_ short. "I keep hitting my head on the doorframes." He laughed a little, self-consciously. "But it's mostly trolls, yeah."

"Huh," Henry said. "Sounds weird." And then: "I mean, not that—"

"Hah, nah, it's cool," Rok said.

Henry sat there for a second in what he felt was increasingly awkward silence, painfully aware of the burning heat of Rok's body right next to him.

"But, yeah, man, thanks for helping me out back there." Rok broke the silence, thankfully, and pulled Henry into a handshake that ended with him getting pulled forward to smack against Rok's chest for a second and then released.

Henry stood, aware that Rok sitting was only a foot or so taller than him standing. He kind of... loitered, wondering if he should go, wondering if he should stay, and apparently Rok read some of the nervousness in his spine.

"But, hey, you gotta go right now? We could chill for a while." Rok slumped down against the rim of one of the bedframes, sprawled out and shirtless, arms hooked back across the plywood of the bare bunk, knuckles rapping out an erratic rhythm.

Henry tried to look anywhere that wasn't directly at Rok. "Uh, my next class isn't until — a while. From now. So I could stay. I guess," Henry said. mentally hitting himself after every awkward blurt. Heat was rising across his face; he hoped he wasn't visibly blushing. Given how much he flushed, he considered himself lucky it didn't really show on his dark skin.

"Well, c'mon, sit." Rok tapped the mattress next to him, and then turned, grabbing something from under the bed. "You mind if I...?" he said, a big round thing in his hand, grabbed from under the bed, and — oh, right. That was a bong.

"Uh, no, go ahead," Henry said. He sat, folding his legs under him, just kinda watching.

"Cool, cool," Rok said, flipping up the lid of what had just looked like a nondescript black chunk of darkness under the windowsill, rummaging through it until he pulled out what Henry could only assume was an entire, like, _branch_ of weed, thick and full of stems, digging one of his claws into it to pull out clumps. Buds. Stems? Probably? He did something Henry didn't really follow, claws shredding something, or tearing something apart, and then wedged something into the bowl. There was a muted slosh as he poured some water into it; Henry just watched Rok's hands grip and curl around the smooth glass.

There was a spark of light as Rok held his lighter to the bowl long enough for the weed to start to glow, and then he held his palm against the top of the chamber, letting smoke collect inside in a dense, black fog. Henry just watched Rok's hand flutter, the movement stirring the smoke inside in rippling waves as it built up, until finally Rok pressed his mouth to the top of the chamber and sucked it all up in a long, slow inhale, sitting there frozen for a long moment before he exhaled in a cloud of grey-black fog, sharply pungent smell hitting Henry's nose as the cloud rippled out. "You wanna?" Rok said, raising the bong, and —

"Um, sure." Henry said. "But it's, uh, been a while, so..." which was a total, absolute lie. He had never seen a bong before in his life. He'd never seen a _joint_ before in his life. He kind of fumbled, grabbing the chamber like he'd seen Rok do, covering the mouthpiece, abruptly realizing he didn't have enough hands to use it like that. He was absolutely sure he was flushing at this point. Hopefully he didn't look purple.

He took the lighter from Rok's hand, balancing the bong in his lap, and tried to mimic what he'd done: putting the flame to the herb until it started to glow, and then... something? He mimicked Rok's rip, pressing his mouth over the pipe and inhaling. The second the smoke hit his throat he started coughing: the taste was raw, burning his throat, rough and heavy. He pulled away, all the smoke billowing up around him as he coughed, gasping for breath, eyes watering. Rok pulled the bong out of his hands, pulling him out of the shroud of smoke.

"Oh, shit, sorry, that's pretty strong for humans, huh? Sorry 'bout that."

"Yeah," Henry croaked, voice rasping. "Sorry," he said, and then felt like an idiot for saying sorry.

"No worries." Rok pressed something into his hands, smooth plastic, round, and he cracked his eyes open to see it was his water bottle. Henry drank, still sputtering a little, but that stopped the tremors in his throat.

"Lemme try something," Rok said, picking the bong up again, lighting the cherry and letting smoke build up inside until it was dense black fog, rippling low in the chamber. He pressed his mouth to the tip, inhaling slowly, and then put it aside, pulling Henry solidly into his lap, huge arms hooked down his back. Rok slumped down until they were face-to-face, and his lips parted minutely, a wisp of black smoke spilling down his chin. His hands cupped Henry's jaw, fingers reaching all the way to his hairline. The webs of his hand made leathery folds, big ridges pressed up against Henry's skin. His claws tugged on Henry's face, tipping it up, and then Henry's leathery lips pressed against his; Henry opened his mouth as Rok exhaled, breathing in the smoky breath — smoke still rough and burning down his throat, but tempered somehow, less — smoky. The weed hit a second later, a heavy thrum running through him, like his entire body was a string that had been plucked.

Rok shifted back, lips trailing across Henry's cheek before he straightened his back, looking down at Henry sitting childlike in his lap. "Better?" A final wisp of smoke spilled out of Rok's mouth, sinking down in a loose coil as it diffused.

Henry nodded. "Yeah."

"You feeling it now?"

Rok was touching him all over, and his warted hide was burning hot to the touch, feverish. The air was hazy with smoke, stirring in slow clouds, heat creeping up under Henry's shirt, soaking through his jeans. His hands were wrapped around Rok's huge forearm, steadying him to keep him from tipping to the side. "Yeah," he said, slowly.

"Want another hit?" Rok asked, and Henry just nodded, face pressed against his chest.

Henry was painfully aware of his dick stirring in his jeans, thickening slowly as they sat there together, the bizarre inhuman muscles of Rok's chest shifting and sliding under his thickly warted skin. They were touching everywhere: Rok's arm slung over his shoulder, his chest pressed against Henry's, hot through his clothes and even hotter where their bare skin touched. Rok's hands moved behind his back, bong in one hand, lighter in the other. The chamber of the bong pressed against his back, smooth and glassy, as Rok leaned over Henry's shoulder to take another hit. There was a dry _chack_ of his lighter sparking, followed by a slow inhale, Rok's chest expanding slow. Henry had to shy back a little, canting his hips up so his half-hard dick didn't dig into Rok's side; the motion stilled halfway when Rok drew up, black smoke spilling down from his open mouth, and kissed Henry again. Rok's tongue swiped across his lower lip as he exhaled; one long, steady breath that went straight into Henry's lungs, a secondhand hit so prolonged Henry was dizzy and gasping by the end, panting out little breaths of heavy smoke.

Henry pushed himself up from his slump, room spinning around him, and grasped Rok to brace himself, one hand clapped over the swell of his shoulder, the other splayed across his chest, gasping for air in the smoky room. Dimly, though, he realized he was really pressed up against Rok: his legs were hooked over Rok's hips, shirt rucked up, jean-clad cock pressed what had to be noticeably against the pudge of Rok's stomach.

"Uh," Henry said, flushing hard, trying to squirm out of Rok's lap, "S-sorry, I just..." he said, room burning hot, sweat dripping down his back.

Rok caught his hand by the wrist when he tried to push away, fingers wrapping all the way up to his elbow, and tugged him forward. Rok reached back with his other hand, cupping his ass, fingers splayed, and pulled him forward again, pressing him flush to Rok's chest, trapped cock grinding up against Rok's belly. Henry groaned, heat surging up through him white-hot, a soft moan spilling from his lips.

"It's cool," Rok said, thumb swiping up and down across his hip, stroking lower over his revealed skin, and slid his hand down between them, palm grinding over Henry's cock. "No problem, right?" He grinned, huge dagger teeth on sharp display for a second before he leaned in, pressing kisses up Henry's neck. Henry moaned again, Rok's chuckle a bass vibration rumbling through his neck. Rok's teeth were like sharkskin, not smooth at all, even the flats rough like sandpaper, and his teeth scraped across his skin during the kisses, leaving behind raw marks, like scratches.

"I was kinda hoping you were down for this, actually," Rok said when he pulled back, punctuating with a kiss to Henry's lips, tongue darting out and swiping across his face, all black and covered in glossy warts.

"Oh, I mean... I've never, um," Henry said, stumbling over his words, dimly aware that he, uh, probably would not have actually said that. Maybe?

"Oh?" Rok didn't look, like, offended that Henry was a virgin. "Well, you wanna now?"

Henry looked at Rok, all lumpy warted skin, huge stick limbs, backlit by his dimly-glowing dreads, eyes sometimes catching the indirect light and turning into flatly-grey discs. "Um, yeah, yes, definitely."

Rok laughed a little, low in his throat, and pulled back minutely, laugh sliding up into more of a giggle as Henry whined and squirmed closer. "Well, good, because I've been hoping for it since I saw you." He grabbed the hem of Henry's shirt and pulled it up over his head, knocking his glasses askew. Henry blinked, angles all wrong with one lens knocked up to his forehead, and plucked his glasses off, placing them on the plywood frame of the bed next to him. Everything else was a messy blur, but Rok was close enough to be clear. Rok dipped his head, black tongue slavering from his mouth, lapping down Henry's narrow chest, twitching left and then right to curl around his nipples, hands reaching down after he cast Henry's shirt aside to tug on them both. Probably Rok was into that because he didn't have any. He pinched Henry's nipples in his huge claws, tugging and then twisting as Henry groaned, exhales coming out as sharp little whimpers.

Henry just hung on, hands clutching Rok's gigantic biceps as he tipped the both of them back, pinning Henry down in his nest of sheets, head bobbing up and down as his tongue slavered down his chest, teeth nipping in its wake, hand splayed between Henry's legs, grinding against his cock, keeping a steady rhythm as Henry bucked and writhed.

Henry moaned, rocking forward, gasping at each new touch, heat building across his chest, burning down his stomach to coil in his hips, the scrape of Rok's claws and teeth electric. He found himself rutting up into Rok's grip, hands sliding over Rok's lumpy hide until his hands wrapped around Rok's wrist, shaky moans bursting from his lips, until —

It hit him he was gonna come a few seconds before it happened. He went, "Oh god," and jerked backwards out of Rok's embrace, slapping at his hands, "I'm gonna come!" His cock throbbed angrily in his jeans, a trembling spurt into his boxer-briefs that was a slimy mix of pre and come. He was absolutely on the edge, a single touch all that was needed.

Rok looked down at him — mouth open and panting, chest heaving, cock a huge lump in his jeans. "That a bad thing?"

"I don't wanna come in my _pants_ ," Henry said, and Rok laughed again and leaned forward, crawling towards him.

"So out of your pants is fine?" Rok said, claws sliding up Henry's pant leg, catching against the button on his jeans. Rok reached out with his other hand, splaying all up and down Henry's back, and tugged him bodily forwards back into his lap, head swooping down to press a kiss across Henry's mouth. He undid the button of Henry's jeans and tugged the zipper down, fabric of his boxer-briefs bulging out, damp and stuck to the arch of his shaft, a wet splotch where his cockhead was pressed up against the fabric.

Rok's claws scraped across the skin of his stomach, zig-zagging down to pry under the waist of his underwear, pressing against the base of his cock. His fingers squirmed underneath a moment later, wrapping around his shaft, tugging the flesh up into his grip, all damp with sweat. His cock fit easily into Rok's huge hand, the entire thing swallowed up, not even spanning two fingers up, the rest closing above the head. Rok stroked him with two fingers, a third fingertip rubbing against his cockhead, smearing his messy gush of pre and come around.

"You wanna come right now?" Rok hissed into his ear, and Henry just groaned, nodding, hips jerking up, cock sliding through Rok's fingers.

Rok shoved his other hand under his underwear and tugged them down his legs to his ankles, knocking his legs open, thigh sliding between them. He laid Henry out on the bed, arms and legs curled around him, head and shoulders pillowed on Rok's chest, practically enveloping Henry's entire body. He worked his thigh against Henry's balls, rubbing up against his tightly-drawn sac, pressure and heat all around him.

"Yeah, come on," Rok said, pumping steadily, claws sliding along Henry's inner thighs, face pressed against his neck, the sharktooth side of his teeth scraping where he was grinning wide. Henry whimpered, hips jerking, thrusting up into Rok's grip, warted skin damp with sweat and pre, wet slurps sounding through the room. He was already so close, the whole — the whole _situation_ so much more than a hand on his dick, dazed, skin hot, groaning as Rok stroked him off. Sweat spilled down his neck; his every muscle was taut; he whined with each stroke, stomach hollowing out. Just a single touch in the right place and he'd be coming, teetering there almost agonizing. Heat rushed through him, pooling deep in his gut.

Rok's fingers slipped over his cockhead, squeezing just below the crown, thick waxy warts catching along the underside. The touch was like burning sparks, sizzling hot burning up his chest. He wailed, whining, cock erupting with a sharp pulse, come splattering all across Rok's fingers. He shot again, and again, writhing on the bed — and then jerking in surprise when heat splattered down across him, his shots _shooting_ , arcing up to splatter across his shoulder, down his chest, pulse after pulse erupting out of him under Rok's steady touch.

He went limp afterwards, cock slowly softening in Rok's hand as he kept idly tugging, come squelching between his fingers. Rok collapsed down next to him on the bed, the burn of orgasm fading to a steady throb, Rok draped across his side like a huge blanket, everything hot and dark, body still thrumming with the hazy pleasure of his orgasm.

* * *

The room was nearly pitch black when Henry woke, the only light a barely-there indirect glow from the covered windows. His eyes had adjusted, but still everything was shadow, grey on black. He stirred and Rok's arms, still wrapped around him, tugged him closer, the huge troll letting out a sleepy whine against the back of his neck.

"Gotta go," Henry said, fingers loosely tangled with Rok's, and Rok mumbled again, body rolling against his bare back, bubbly skin shifting against his.

"Mmm," Rok said, letting Henry go, flopping over on his stomach as he got up. Then he reached out, one huge hand spanning nearly the entire way around his waist. "Gimmie a kiss first," he said, pulling Henry down, sharkskin teeth scraping over Henry's lips, leaving them stinging.

Henry pulled himself up, nearly blind in the darkness. He groped across the span of the bed and then up onto the vacant bedframe until his nails clacked against the rim of his glasses. The room was chill without Rok's burning heat pressed against him, and Henry shivered as he looked for his boxers. His come had dried against his stomach, flaking off as he pulled his clothes on. Rok was still sprawled out across the two mattresses, eyes maybe open a sliver, watching him dress.

"Hey," Rok said quietly, huge hand wrapping loosely around his ankle. "See you around, yeah?"

Henry looked down, a sudden flash of arousal hitting him, just... his body reminding him what they'd just done; what they could be doing again if Henry just got down there and started kissing Rok. "Um," he said, trying to clear his head. "Yeah."

* * *

The hallway was blindingly bright after the dimness of Rok's room, and Henry had to squint and cover his eyes before they adjusted to even the dingy overhead light. The outside was worse; he closed his eyes and waited for the red to stop being so intense. It felt like it'd been days, but instead, no, he'd managed to neatly fill that awkward block of time between the end of his morning class and the start of his afternoon class. Three hours, that was all.

So that, uh, went on.

The next Chem class had him squirming in his seat the entire time through. Rok had been staring at him. Not all the time, but enough, and every time their eyes met a shot of heat went through Henry from scalp to toes, thinking about what they'd done two days ago.

Afterwards: "Wanna come back to my room...?" Rok said, hand casually wrapped around Henry's hip, fingers rubbing at the skin of his stomach, and Henry just nodded.

* * *

Back in Rok's dorm, Rok sprawled on his mattresses, idly reaching into what Henry could identify now as a big old trunk that looked a billion years old: black wood, and finished even darker, bound with worn leather and with bronze hinges. It smelled almost like cedar, burnt cedar maybe, wood still fragrant even after so long.

And it was packed full of... probably drugs? There was Rok's bong, and a bundle as big as his forearm of what Henry recognized as the black swampweed they'd smoked, but that was just the top layer. Rok grabbed the bong, and Henry looked in over his shoulder.

"So, uh, what else do you got in there?" Henry asked, mostly just curious. It was a _big_ chest.

Rok bowed down low, teeth scraping along his side, laughter bursts of hot wet breath curling over his skin. "Most of it's ritual shit, and most of the rest of it is... I mean, I got a bunch of stuff that'd probably just straight-up kill you. You guys are like, really... delicate. Uh, no offense."

"Uh, I mean, I guess if you got..." and then he paused, not really sure where he could be going with that sentence. But Rok kept looking at him like he was expecting him to finish saying something, so Henry just kind of kept talking, more and more flustered. "uh, something, that uh, we could... use? I guess?" He looked down, aware of the heat burning across his face. "Um, it's not something that I've done much of. You, uh, probably figured."

Rok laughed, but not meanly. "S'cool. Wanna get high off troll drugs, huh? Don't worry about it." and he reached up and mussed Henry's hair, knocking his glasses askew. "I probably got something in here we could try out."

Rok peeled off Henry's side and went back to shuffling through the chest, revealing thick bunches of herbs and cloth bags full of dusty powder. He stacked them up in a big, unstable-looking tower: "Not that, not that, not that," just kind of mumbling to himself. He held up a vial of brilliant green goo, bubbling like it was boiling. "That's nightmare toxin; like, for me it's okay but for humans I think it takes like... five moons to wear off? Or fifteen? I don't really remember." He put that one on the 'no' pile.

"Why do you even have that?" Henry couldn't help sounding a little incredulous.

Rok shrugged. "Sometimes it's real important to get a nightmare." Then, holding another vial: "How d'you feel about growing horns? You'd shed 'em in fall, I'm pretty sure."

Henry touched his forehead, trying to envision himself with huge deer horns. Or some other kind of horns. "Uh, probably not?"

Rok went through a few other things, before: "Oh, I guess there's this," he said, and it was a thick green-glass jar with a stopper on the top, the insides cloudy through the glass but looking just... black. He opened it up, a weird wax-and-ink kind of smell suffusing the room. "It's just paint really, but like — humans wear it when we do the drowning festival; it definitely doesn't kill you." He dug his talons into it, clawing out a thick chunk of black paint, stiff enough that the edges only smeared smooth slowly. "Kinda gives a... laid back kinda high; tingles, gives you a bit of a rush, that kinda thing."

Henry's eyebrows went up at 'drowning festival'. "What's actually _in_ it?"

"Uh, like... there are these plants that grow in the swamp? Big black leaves, lots of real long tangly roots. You take the roots and chop 'em up, cook them until you get a paste. Then you, uhhhh cook that more, until all the sap starts coming out in crystals. You take those, crush them, mix in, uhhhh, spider venom? And the buds from this other tree, like, right in the spring when they're fresh; you burn them down to ash and that makes a base for a bunch of stuff. Plus some other stuff." He shrugged. "It's definitely not gonna hurt you; we also, like, thin it with wine and drink it. But mostly you rub it on your skin."

Rok leaned in, leering, and groped down Henry's stomach with his hand not slathered in weird spider-venom ink, wrapped his fingers around Henry's dick. "Actually," he said, lower, tongue lolling from his mouth, voice gurgling. "They totally smear it on their dicks too. Nipples, all that shit. Says it makes 'em more sensitive. And bigger." He licked a messy stripe across the side of Henry's head, knocking his glasses askew. "You wanna give it a try?"

"Um," Henry said, thinking, squirming, dick dripping pre against Rok's touch. "Yeah, I— yeah. Let's do that. Should I—" Henry gestured unzipping his pants, and given that — like, given that he did it by actually brushing against his jeans, jarring Rok's hand wrapped around his dick, probably it would've been better to just do it instead of pantomiming.

"Yeah, get naked, don't wanna stain your clothes." Rok leered, letting his tongue spill out of his mouth. "Just your body," he said, slurring around his tongue, drooling down across Henry's belly.

Henry squirmed out of his jeans, shoving them down to his knees and then kicking them off, awkwardly working his socks off at the same time. He looked over at Rok, still fully-dressed, or at least — as fully dressed as his ragged tanktop and gym shorts were. "Uh, could you—" Henry started. "I mean, I kinda wanna see you. Um. Naked."

"S'cool," Rok said, somehow already flipping his shirt inside-out over his head before Henry had even finished asking. He just shoved his gym shorts down, kicking them the rest of them off. And like, okay, he had kind of _wondered_ what Rok had, but the weird stubby, like, dick-prong that was there between his legs really wasn't what he expected. Rok noticed him staring and just leered, though. "Hey don't worry about that, you can mess with it later. Right now—" and raised his hand all slathered in weird venom toxin gunk, pressing it against Henry's hip "I wanna get to paint you a little."

Henry gasped a little at the touch, letting out a soft "aah". The stuff was... cold? hot? to the touch, a little waxy, leaving purplish streaks everywhere Rok painted it, skin sensitive underneath. Rok worked it into his flesh, and an itching, fiery heat spread across his side. Rok wiped the toxin clear so they could both see: the purplish streaks had deepened into a brilliant purple-black sheen, purple like a bruise spreading over his skin even ahead of Rok's fingers. He painted across Henry's chest, just absent finger-painting motions, smearing black toxin in looping lines over his skin, staining it purple. His skin burned, flushed and oversensitive, even the soft waft of air over him as Rok shifted almost painful, heat settling over him, like it was getting sucked inside through the splotches of toxin-stained skin.

"Is that gonna stain?" Henry said, already a little breathless, staring down at the marks.

"Yeah, for a while. Uh, like, depending on the dosage —" and Rok paused for a second, black tongue hanging out and drool spilling across Henry's stomach, working to thin the toxin with spit before he kept going. "It'll fade after a while. Uh, growth goes first, then coloration, then sensitivity, usually. Takes like a month or two. Though, uh, if you're getting this much from just this" — looking at his purpling skin, holding up his ink-stained hands — "probably it'll take a little longer to fade. Three or four."

"Oh, okay," Henry said, and then "wait, growth?"

"Lemme show you," Rok said and then scraped his claws down further, fingers smearing down his stomach, back of his hand knocking against Henry's cock. Then Rok drew his fingers up his cock, sloppy with spit and toxin, and gripped it, ooze squelching between his fingers. He started stroking, slow and strokes, completely coating his shaft in a layer of smeared toxin. Henry groaned, toes curling, back arching, rising up to rut into Rok's loose grip and then collapsing back bonelessly, practically gasping for breath as heat surged through his cock.

The heat burned up Henry's shaft, throbbing almost painful now, engorged to oversensitivity. Rok's fingers squelched, wet heat dribbling behind his balls, shaft throbbing fatter and fatter until it felt like it might burst, skin drawn painfully tight. Henry whined and Rok shifted his hand forward, wrapping his oily hands around Henry's cock, thumb swiping up and down the underside of the shaft. His skin thickened in rubbery jolts, the tightness ebbing as skin grew looser until there were fleshy curves of excess foreskin pillowed along his cockhead. Then Rok's fingers slid back, massaging the root of his cock again, back to working his cock fatter again, drawing the new skin taut: Rok switched back and forth as Henry's cock swelled in hitching, shuddering increments. It was grotesquely fat, veins bulging against the flesh, head brilliant purple as it slapped against Henry's belly.

"Yeahhhh, that's more like it," Rok said, voice rasping. "You humans look all lopsided and weird and, like, _tiny_. This is way better, even if... I mean, even though you're still pretty small."

Henry reached down clumsily, fingertips tapping the side of his gargantuan shaft and sending it swinging minutely, jerking left and right, thumping solidly against his palm as he tried to wrap his hand around it, palms slick and greasy with the oily paint. His fingers didn't even meet around its girth, now, and just his one touch felt like an electric shock, pleasure burning down through him from the drag of skin on skin. His cock throbbed in his grip, swelling larger, and spat a messy gush of cloudy purplish pre all up his chest, a thick cord oozing from his swollen cockhead down to his taut stomach, cloudy ooze piling up and spilling down his side. " _This_ is _small_?!" he said, voice fading as he panted, stomach hollowing with each whooshing breath

"Pretty small," Rok said, and like — His dick seemed too big to be attached to him. A foot long. At _least_. Thick and swollen, arching up over Henry's taut stomach, shaft bloated wider in the middle, nearly the entire upper half covered in thick folds of loose foreskin, piled up behind the swollen cockhead.

"It's not _small_ ," Henry said, practically gasping, hips jerking — the hot air rushing across his cockhead making it twitch and shudder.

"It's pretty small," Rok said, like he was apologetic about it.

Henry looked over at Rok, letting out a little groan of frustration, and squinted down at his dick spike; no absurdly huge dick there. But then Rok wrapped his hand around his dick again — big enough to be a proper handful now — and he lost his train of thought, gasp bursting out of him like all the air inside him had vanished.

Henry wrapped his hands around it, absurdly gigantic, and pumped it, once, sloppy folds of foreksin bulging around the head before they spilled over, forming a fat dome of wrinkled flesh jutting out past his cockhead, pre oozing out from inside, before he tugged back. The brilliant purple-black of his cockhead shone as he peeled his purplish flesh back down the shaft. His cockhead pulsed, slit gaping wide to drool out a sloppy stream of pre. He caught it on his fingers, smearing it across the dome of his cockhead, and his cock twitched and gushed out twice as much, webbing for a second between his fingers before it all spilled down across his stomach.

"I guess now I gotta even out your balls, right?" And Rok reached down, toxin-slimed fingers prodding against the flesh of his sac. His balls were drawn up tight against the base of his shaft, flesh stained purple-black in streaks, and compared to the fearsome girth of his cock they just looked like a tiny little lump. His balls churned and shifted under Rok's fingers, toxin sticking to his furrowed flesh in clumps, slimy as his talons slid up under his balls to massage the root of his shaft, throbbing as it too grew fatter. Henry whined, hips jerking, hands gripped tight around Rok's huge forearms, shaft leaving a cloudy black streak as it dribbled fresh precome.

Rok's palm squelched, smearing more toxin across Henry's balls, smearing it in sloppy blobs up and down. Burning started on the surface of his skin and sunk down, becoming a static buzz of heat filling his balls. Rok tugged on them, and the sensation coming back was suddenly a thousand times as strong: the slow roll of his balls a motion rippling up through his entire body, pressure and tension of Rok's hands sending of firework showers of heat up his spine. He wheezed, mouth hanging open, what would've been a bellowing groan cracking in his throat and coming out as a nearly soundless rattle. His balls _ached_ , pulsing in Rok's grip, swelling, pushing back against his palms, fingers long bars of implacable tension, swelling balls bulging around them. Rok's fingers spread, hand opening in minute twitch after twitch as Henry's balls throbbed larger. His cock gushed, huge slit opening to gush a torrent of sludgy purple-black pre all up Henry's stomach and chest, painting him in a layer of ooze that spilled down his sides and soaked the sheets.

Henry's sac bulged, skin drawn taut around his swelling balls, until it felt like a pressure: skin too small to contain the growing flesh. He had his head tipped up to the ceiling, blindly staring up, eyes rolled back into his skull. His balls _creaked_ , sac stretched taut, a lumpy bulb throbbing between his thighs the size of two fists, purpling flesh stretched red-pink. Rok reached back, fingers cold with toxin before it warmed over his burning skin, slathering more, lower behind his balls, around the tight rim where his sac joined his body, trying to coax it to swell in time with his bloating balls. Henry jerked up, sac heaving with the motion, juddering up in a lumpy mass, covering half his straining shaft, then slamming back down against his thighs with a frisson of pain. Each twitch of his overpacked flesh trying to furrow was painful in its intensity. Hot sparks burst across his sac as it grew too, flesh slowly loosening around the grotesque swell of his balls.

Things inside him _churned_ — not his balls but the tubes connected to them: swelling, bulging, flesh convolving and folding over itself as they elongated, forming messy switchback folds that bulged out of his taut sac, asymmetrical and lumpy from the sheer heft of his rapidly-growing balls. The same stretch came from inside his grotesquely over-sized balls, new cords bulging out from the inside like worms, squirming inside his sac as they grew and grew, finger-thick passages filling his taut sac to bursting. They hit the side of his sac, distending the flesh, visibly squirming up higher until they found the opening to his body cavity, practically slurping inside. Henry whined again, sensation like fingers prying up inside his inguinal canals as the new cords finally sunk into his flesh, cock spraying tarry purple-black come, over-packed balls letting out some of their tension. He just stared up, panting hard, whimpering with every new pulse of sensation; the drag of flesh on flesh was almost too much to bear, balls churning inside his ballooned-out sac, muscle spasms grinding them against each other, a point of pressure as they touched that spread into a disc of contact, aching flesh spongy enough to flatten as they all jostled for room, writhing and moaning as Rok worked toxin into his skin.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Rok said, kneeling over him, hands flitting away from Henry's grotesquely-grown cock and balls for a second to scoop up a fresh clump of toxin, smearing the waxy ooze all up and down his cock, daubing it in thick clumps all across his balls. He leaned up, pressing a kiss to Henry's mouth, tongue lapping up and down across his lips as he started to work in a fresh coat of toxin. "Almost there. Fuck, yeah, that's so much better, you look so great. Fuck, I wasn't— you're really taking to it good, huh?" He ran his fingers over Henry's over-sized balls, cradling them in his palm. "Most people don't get such a big response. I guess because you're so small to begin with," he teased, but Henry was beyond giving any coherent response.

Henry whined and groaned, sobbing as his balls bulged and bloated, flesh folding over itself in lopsided furls, skin too-thick and too-heavy, cock feeling like a burning-hot steel spike rammed back into his body, from tip to the root sunk inside his body cavity boiling hot, lopsided and heavy. Rok let it go, once, and it just splattered down across Henry's stomach in a soggy wash of ooze, muscles on the underside and in his hips spasming, trying vainly to lift it back up into the air, steadily spurting runny ooze across his belly until Rok wrapped his hand back around it and started stroking again.

The pleasure was overwhelming, spikes of heat bursting across his skin, the slide of his foreskin over his bloated cockhead making him gasp and sob, mindlessly jerking his hips up to fuck his cock through Rok's steadily-stroking fist. Heat gathered in his boiling balls, streaking up through his body, and Henry's cock gave a single lurch, muscles jerking with new force. His cock erupted, a sudden pulse that sprayed him up and down with chunky purple-grey come, arcing into the air in rippling ribbons, hosing across his chest. But there was no relief, cock still hard and aching, so engorged it hurt. The realization that that had been a single gush of pre — or whatever he had now instead of pre — made him sob wetly, hips jerking up against Rok's touch, trying to get that final push of sensation to send him over the edge. The motion _slurped_ , slobbery squelching, crackling noises as he rammed his overgrown cock through Rok's fist, gummy, stringy globs of pre oozing between his fingers, hanging down from his wrist, slapping wetly together and merging into wishbone-shaped tendrils that slowly smeared together into huge, jiggling lines that finally snapped and splattered in huge, frothy dollops across Henry's stomach.

"That's way better," Rok said, slimy fingers drenched in a slurry of toxin and come, smearing down Henry's skin, rubbing against the root of his cock behind his balls. "You ready to come?"

"Yes!" The word was drawn out into an incoherent moan, hitching as Henry heaved, gasping for breath, skin drenched in sweat.

"So c'mon," Rok said, brushing a kiss against Henry's temple, the grip of his hand changing minutely; a fraction more drag against his cockhead, each thrust sending brilliant sparks flashing behind Henry's eyes.

Henry whined, hips snapping up and down, the shock of impact as his balls crashed against the mattress — and the moment when he thrust up, balls following, hanging weightless in midair at the apex of his thrust for a fraction of a second before gravity yanked them back down again — sending out huge gushes of pre, splattering him up and down with gummy, congealing lines of gritty sludge. He wrapped his hands tight around Rok's slowly-pumping forearm, fucking his hand desperately.

Henry's mouth hung open, droplets of salt-sour slime splattering across the roof of his mouth as he whined. His whine cracked, mouth open in a soundless scream as his entire body convulsed, tremor hitting him hard, thrashing against Rok's grip. A knot of muscle deep in his gut clenched, spasmed with the force of a kick, and his grotesquely-altered cock _gurgled_ , tarry slime slurping inside him as muscles snapped open, steady spasms pumping. His cock swelled, cockhead flaring, slit opening into a gaping circle, and then finally he _came_ , finger-thick cords of come erupting out, arching in the air for a long second before gravity pulled them down, splattering with a wet _slap_ all across his face and chest, splattering all over, droplets spraying all across his stomach.

He let out a warbling scream, completely inhuman, hips jerking mindlessly as he fucked Rok's fist, wailing as the next pulses hit, gush if anything larger, a wave of come splattering back down across him. He had his eyes screwed shut, aware only of the sensation of it: the second-long gush from his cock, the swampy wash of sludge in cords splattering back against his skin. Wet heat slapped across his skin, thinner ooze spilling down his sides while the thicker gunk piled up, so much it became a weight pressing down all across his stomach and chest, chunky ooze slurping and crackling as it slowly spilled down into the hollow of his throat, stirring with each of Henry's desperate gasps.

His cock kicked, each pulse feeling like a cartoonish bulge, like if he opened his eyes and watched he could see the bulge traveling up his titanic length before it erupted in a frothy, chunky mess all across his chest, again and again, soaking his sweaty face, sour in his open mouth, until the weight bearing down on him felt like being underwater: a pressure on his chest from the sheer volume of rancid, transformed come piled up across him. He didn't even notice when he stopped coming, pleasure still burning through him, body shuddering with the aftershocks, keening and writhing, pumping his slowly-softening cock through Rok's hand, the motion as painfully intense as ever, even with his cock only drizzling the dregs of his load.

It was Rok's voice that brought him out of it, eventually. "You okay?" he said, hand touching his side. Henry came back to himself in a rush, like his soul had been sucked back into his body, suddenly aware he was gasping for breath, whimpering, sweating so freely he was stuck to the sheets even where his load hadn't done the job already. His entire body was shuddering, muscle spasms up and down his chest, arms twitching at his sides.

He struggled to sit up, aware of the mass of come all but tethering him to the bed, silty chunks that had cohered together into wrist-thick cords, soaked into the sheets in broad anchors, so that when he sat he ended up bringing the sheets with him. Rok helped, letting go of his cock — the half-hard thing turgid, like an enormous worm, slapping down across his chest with a wet splorch — to support his back, help tip him up. The watery dregs of his load spilled down his chest, the tar-thick silt stuck to him in cords, only sluggishly spilling down in a coherent sheet. Henry was still gasping, arms trembling as he tried to grasp Rok's hand, dazed after the orgasm.

Henry mumbled something, incoherent, and then swallowed — spicy and sour, only aware as he did it that his open mouth had been half-flooded with come — and spoke again. "Mmgood," he mumbled, dazed, arms hanging limp and only trembling when he tried to move them. He gasped for breath, letting a little of the daze of his orgasm drain away, until he could hold Rok's hand. Rok wiped across his face, dragging away the worst of the sludge, sweat and come forming a slurry drooling all down his face and chest, coating his eyes. Rok's knuckles gently brushed against his eyelashes as he caught huge globs of come until Henry could finally open his eyes, blinking rapidly; even the dim, indirect light in Rok's room too bright for a moment.

"Little too much, huh," Rok said, with a little laugh, keeping Henry cradled in his lap. "Maybe I went a little overboard."

Henry shook his head, vision spinning. "Nah," he said, aware of the heat across his face, any blush hidden under the sheer volume of grimy come coating him. "That was— nice," he said, in the moment afterward aware of how dumb that sounded but unable to think of anything better to say.

"Well good," Rok said with a grin, trailing a hand down Henry's stomach, the shock of pleasure there enough to make his overstimulated cock lurch across his belly. "It was super fucking hot." He paused. "You think you can sit up?"

Henry tried. "Uh, gimmie a minute."

Rok rubbed his side, catching and sliding in spurts where he was less or more caked with slick, slimy come. "No rush." His hand slid down between Henry's legs, tugging the huge, fist-sized heft of his balls, thumb rubbing back and forth over their huge, lopsided weight. "Though I guess we might find out if it takes longer for you to get up or to get it up again if you take a lot of time." His fingers smeared over the length of Henry's cock. "I kinda wanna suck you off actually." He said it very casually, nonchalantly, like for Henry the thought of anybody sucking his dick at all hadn't been a wild fantasy of his up until about now, not even including how Rok was a huge troll-monster and also his cock was now grotesquely over-sized.

Henry gave a moan that was half aroused and half despairing, limp cock shuddering and spitting out a sluggish drool of pre, mixed in with chunky clots of come that were left over inside from his last orgasm.

Slowly he put himself together, or at least, enough to sit up without Rok needing to steady him. His balls just spilled out in his lap, a huge lumpy mess of purplish flesh, tacky with toxin and pre; too-sensitive to the touch.

When he finally got up his balls nearly knocked him down again; altered cock and heavy balls like a lead weight. Even from what he was expecting their limp weight was shockingly heavy — and not just the weight of it, but how it was hooked up inside him, thick cords like fingers tugging somewhere up inside his body cavity. He staggered forward, hooks shifting left and right, collapsing just in time for Rok to reach out and catch him.

It took a while to get up, and even longer to get dressed. He was gonna have to get new jeans; his bulge was just... obscene. Packed tight in there, his flesh still slowly churning, weird snaky motions scraping against his underwear as his skin furrowed and relaxed, sending his balls squirming between his thighs.

Henry staggered back to his dorm — thank god Travis, his roommate, was out; his skin was crusty with dried come and his clothes weren't much better. He kept catching a whiff of how he smelled, spicy and rich, not a _bad_ smell but one that certainly broadcast that he'd just gotten fucked. Or — jerked off. Or whatever had happened.

He showered, his cock looking that much more alien in the bright fluorescent light of the bathroom. The residual crusted toxin washed off, but that just left his altered skin on display, big finger-painted whorls all across his stomach and sides, dots and dashes reaching up across his chest. Two big smears over his nipples that he hadn't even noticed; they were bigger and puffier, aching when Henry tugged on them, and the lurch of his cock at the stimulation nearly knocked him over. _Jerking off_ was gonna be a huge problem, or at least... Rok seemed happy to help. Henry just staggered back to his room, flinching each time his balls audibly smacked against his thighs under his towel, and crawled into bed, out like a light.

* * *

When he woke up Travis was sitting on the other side of the room, at his desk; not really noticing him until Henry stirred and sat up, and then he pulled a headphone earbud out and turned.

"Oh, hey," he said, and gave Henry a knowing look, even as he uselessly tried to hide the marks smeared across his chest. "Wild night, huh?"

Henry mumbled something, face burning hot, and blissfully the conversation didn't go much further than that. Travis turned away so Henry could get dressed, at least, and didn't get a look at his freshly-grown cock and balls.

Class was a mess.

Rok had left a huge hickey across the side of his neck, flesh abraded and stinging, bruise aching every time he turned his head. Henry reached up to touch it, absently, and it was like a flashback: his sense-memory vivid, room smoky and dark, Rok's teeth scraping across his neck, huge body folded all around him, palm grinding against his as-of-then unaltered dick. Henry had to stifle a moan, squirming in his seat, cock shuddering to life with a throb that made him lightheaded, instantly straining against the front of his jeans, the pressure half pain and half pleasure. A burst of wetness bloomed across his cock, a single slow drip of pre soaking his underwear all around his cock and slowly starting to seep through his jeans.

_Rok_ noticed, of course, sitting right next to him, and the look — hell, it wasn't even a particularly sultry look, but still Henry had to clamp his thighs together and look away, trying to get the hot, angry throb of his cock to ebb, or else he was straight-up gonna come in the middle of class.

After class, during which Henry had got a page or two full of sketchy notes and actually processed almost nothing of the lecture, Rok all but bounded over to him like an overeager puppy. "So, you wanna...?" he said, hand cupping Henry's side, and Henry just nodded, looking away. It felt like he'd fucking pissed his pants, sludgy pre collected in gritty folds, sticking his boxer-briefs to his thighs, hugging every fold and crease of his cock and balls. Fluid spilled, sliding across his ass or down his thighs when he'd stood at the end of the class.

So anyway, they went back to Rok's dorm and then Rok jerked him off again, and Henry ended up shooting a huge, grimy load of purple-grey come all up the wall, sobbing and wailing.

Afterwards, though, Henry got in mind to ask about _Rok's_ dick; this whole thing had been... really focused on him. He said it: "I mean, this whole thing has been... really focused on me."

"You've kinda—" Henry gestured to his body, cock swollen, skin splattered bright purple, like the weirdest cast of vitiligo ever. "and I haven't even gotten to see your dick."

Rok kinda squirmed awkwardly. "Well, uh. I mean, the thing is. Troll sex is— I don't know, it's kind of... serious."

"Like, only with people you actually _like_?" Henry said, sharply.

Rok held up his hands. "Nah, nah, you got me all wrong! It's just — kind of freaky. Trolls don't got the same kinda stuff as humans."

"At this point _I_ don't got what humans got," Henry said, gesturing at his cock, still slowly leaking purplish-grey come.

Rok leered. "I guess you got me there." He squirmed a little. "It's like — I guess I could just show you." And then finally, _finally_ , he was tugging down his basketball shorts.

Like, Henry had seen _it_ before, and felt it too; it wasn't like he had no clue. _It_ was the same nubby thing as ever, though: maybe most of a finger's length long, real fat, tapering to a tip. No balls or anything like that. Just a short fat spike for a dick. Or for a not-dick, whatever it was. It didn't look that much different from his tail, honestly.

"So, uh, what do I do...?" Henry said, just looking down at it.

Rok laughed. "C'mon, just touch me." He mimed a circle, thighs and belly, thumb flicking up the length of the cone.

Henry settled on his lap, Rok's furnace of a body hot everywhere they touched, and laid his hands across his belly, stroking down, fingertips sliding across his mottled skin. Rok groaned and settled back, shoulders against the wall, huge hands sliding up his chest, thumbs rubbing back and forth over where his nipples would be if he had any.

Rok was so huge, huge banded muscles across his thighs and belly shuddering under Henry's touch, his chest quaking as he let out soft little moans and sighs as Henry just... touched him. Up and down, trying to find where across his warted hide he was most sensitive. Right in the fold of his potbelly; down low across his hips; across the flesh of his inner thighs. Where his hide got hotter and more supple.

Rok groaned, just sprawling back, a big landscape for Henry to touch. And his cock started... swelling. Not like a human dick would; it was getting thicker in the middle, leathery skin softer as something underneath engorged. Rok groaned, almost whining, and when Henry tugged at the base, his hips jerked up and nearly slammed Henry back against the bedframe. "Fuck, sorry," Rok said, patting his back, pulling him closer in the same motion so that Henry was in his lap, cock pressed against Rok's... whatever he had down there.

Henry tugged on it again, Rok shuddering all around him, the flesh bulging wider in spurts until it _split_ , Rok bellowing, mouth hanging open and panting hard. It peeled apart from the tip down to the base, like a huge, fleshy banana peel, revealing pale purple inner flesh, raw muscle pulsing and shuddering. Muscles under the surface of Rok's hide shuddered and clenched as Henry kept stroking up and down his inner thighs, knuckles brushing the outer flaps of his not-dick as it spread and opened. It looked like—

"M' flower," Rok said, grinning goofily, hips rolling up into Henry's touch, hide sliding raw and damp over his fingertips. His dick had been something like a flower bud, now, open: thick meaty petals ringing a central bud, and with each clench and shudder more flesh spilled out of him, the bud flowering into a blossom of pulsing meat. At the center there was a tight furl of flesh, hooded curls catching against each other. Rok shuddered, stomach rippling, and more petals unfurled out from inside him with a wet slurp, clear-white fluid limning the edges of each one.

Henry slid his fingers up, fingers grazing the edge of Rok's first petals: backs warted hide, fronts pale purple and shining. The fluid was surprisingly sticky, not smooth at all; Henry fingers caught on the petals, tacky fluid gluing his fingers down. Rok whined, teeth digging into his lip, and rocked again, practically burying Henry's hand in a mess of petals, thick glue-y fluid all but sticking him in place; he had to peel each petal away from his skin one by one, fluid drawing out into thin lines as he tried to pull his hand back.

Muscle contracted, pulsed, and more ooze slowly seeped out from the center of Rok's flower, off-white and incredibly thick, slowly spilling down the edges of his unfurled petals. Henry pulled his hand back, out of the burning heat of Rok's petals, glue sticking to his fingers and drawing out in a solid line that didn't snap, even when he pulled back: a taut line hanging in the air, trembling as Rok shuddered.

"It's, ah, glue," Rok said, rutting his folds against Henry's hand, glue nearly sticking it in place. "If we got two trolls we both —" and he mimed with his hands: fingertips pressed together, hands coming together with a clap "— jam 'em together until they stick." He shuddered again, another row of petals audibly slurping out from inside him. "Keep touching 'em, it feels fucking great."

More petals spilled out, flesh being pushed out from inside in contraction after contraction, thick petals overlapping as they fanned out. Henry had to scoot back or else risk being straight-up glued to Rok's front, his cock peeling away from the petal it'd been pressed against. Rok kept... unfurling, petals spreading wider until his flower spread out a hand's length — one of Henry's, not one of Rok's — from the core, all layers of petals all buried under each other, glistening in the light. His potbelly was shrinking: most of the flesh inside was _this_ , pushing out into the open.

"Oh," Henry said, just... staring. It might have been a flower, but it was unmistakably _meat_ ; the petals shuddering and clenching, squirming, rising higher before spreading flat again, seemingly working to coat themselves entirely in the thick, continual pour of glue oozing out from the core of the flower, spreading all the way to the edges. Heat wafted up from the petals, their squirming motions stirring up the air, forming currents and eddies that spun around Henry's outstretched fingers.

Henry slid his fingers across the petals, back and forth, as Rok groaned and whined, rutting the messy furl of his flower against his hand. Something slick drooled from the core, smearing over the tacky glue and cutting out some of its stickiness, and Henry followed it back to the center, where his flower had finally stopped unfurling: there was a rim, a thick gristled ring right in the center, spasming and dripping slick fluid as Henry rubbed his hands back and forth over his flesh. Rok groaned, ring shuddering and pushing against Henry's fingers, and slowly, in lurching motions, a huge smooth crest of flesh rose out from the center of his flower.

"Ah, fuck!" Rok tossed his head back, panting as the thing pushed out into the open: a fat soda-bottle looking thing of purple-green flesh, the neck the ring Henry had been playing with, now continually spasming and clenching. Rok caught Henry's hands when he reached for it, and Henry looked up, catching Rok's gaze, eyes only open cracks. "It's really sensitive" he said, voice hitching as the huge thing strained forward, neck slowly opening. "Get your fingers wetter. Or, fuck, use your mouth." He groaned, hips pumping against nothing, Henry riding up and down. "Fuck'n kiss it, if you want. Just be careful of the glue."

His petals were oozing, thick grey streaks of glue forming fat dollops, slowly joining together in messy streams and puddles. The flesh closer to the core was slick, a wet lake of clear fluid, slick when Henry dipped his fingers in, brushed his fingertips over the convulsing flesh at the core, the smooth soda-bottle swell and the spasming neck. It trembled under his touch, the neck opening and then clamping shut so fiercely Henry figured Rok could probably break his fingers if he tried pushing them inside.

Apparently Rok wasn't done yet, though. As Henry stroked the sides of the thing, jerking it a little like it was an enormous short, fat cock, something — some _things_ — started pushing out from the spasming neck of Rok's — to extend the flower metaphor, the big coke-bottle thing would be his _ovary_ , and the things coming out of it were _stamen_ , but Henry was pretty sure actual stamen weren't... prehensile. They were thick tentacle-things, each one thin; thinner than Henry's cock — his cock _before_ all of this, he meant — but first there was one, then another, and then a whole mess of them pushing out from inside Rok's ovary, squirming out into the open air. They weren't cock-shaped, exactly: smooth pillars of greenish flesh, flexible and twisting all along each other. Each one ended in a weird capsule of folded flesh; an anther; a mess of delicate fins and spines, surface piled thickly with a pink-yellow ooze. Except as he watched — and reached out, letting the tentacles curl around his fingers, to Rok's encouraging groans — the ooze piled up thicker and thicker until it peeled away, falling from the anthers into the pool forming at the center of Rok's blossom. Rok was leaking _pollen_ , thick smears of dusty powder streaking across Henry's skin, soaking up the slick fluid his hands were drenched in, forming a thick clumpy ooze.

Rok's stamen wrapped around his fingers, coiling like snakes, and then pulled taut, strong enough to nearly tip Henry forward. Henry laughed, tugging back, Rok groaning and shifting on the ground, hips slowly rising and falling as he rutted forward, a mess of stamen curled all around Henry's hand and wrist, smearing dusty pollen all up his forearm.

"C'mon," Rok said, reaching out with one hand to tug Henry forward. "Gimmie a kiss." He clearly didn't mean _on the mouth_.

Henry leaned in, one hand trying to find purchase and ending up wrapped around Rok's ovary, squeezing when he put some of his weight on it. Henry pulled his stamen-entangled hand up, easing them closer to his face, forearm all smeared thickly with pink-yellow piles of pollen, soaking and dissolving into the mess of Rok's nectar, forming a grimy paste.

Henry leaned in, mouth open, the unexpectedly floral scent... probably not that unexpected, honestly. Sweet-smelling nectar smearing across his cheek when one of Rok's anthers curled up from his hand. Rok was sprawled out, lax and boneless, flower pulsing all across Henry's chest, more and more anthers squirming to fit into Henry's mouth, one and then another pushing against his lips, until he tentatively licked out — pollen gritty and sour-sweet, dissolving on his tongue — and sucked one in. It was like sucking a cock. He assumed. Squirming and prehensile and thin, but making up for that last part by how there were a half-dozen slowly smearing across his face. Not really something he could bob up and down with, more like... making out with them. Like a bunch of tongues licking across his face, into his mouth, smearing him with gritty drool.

Rok groaned, stomach fluttering and clenching as Henry sucked on his anthers, licking and dragging his face over their smooth columns. Back and forth as they steadily oozed pollen all over him, clumps and blobs eventually peeling of his wet skin and pattering down into the slimy, sloppy lake of nectar slowly pooling at the core of Rok's flower, sluggishly spreading across his meaty petals.

Rok let out a reedy groan, ovary trembling and then oozing a swampy gush of nectar, droplets splattering all across Henry's face, spilling back down across his unfurled flower. His ovary pulsed again, harder, gushing soupy fluid all across them both, spraying up his thrashing anthers, catching Henry full-on in the face with a mess of weird, sweet-tasting nectar, slurping as it trickled across his petals and slowly oozed across the sheets, absolutely saturated.

Henry flinched back, the squirt of — come? pollen? nectar? — hot and now dripping down him in rivulets. "Did you just come?" he asked, a little embarrassed, but troll genitalia was confusing.

"Nah," Rok said, and if to punctuate that one of his stamen smeared its way across Henry's face, leaving a thick trail of half-dissolved pollen. His ovary trembled again, kicking like a vibrating drumhead, and shot a messy gush of nectar all up across Henry's chest, dribbling down his skin in rivulets. Rok groaned again, boneless body shuddering with each pulse. "We don't — we don't really... finish," he said, hips bucking gently, stamen coiling over Henry's lips and sliding into his mouth, feeding him more pollen. "Once we start —" and he gestured, reaching up with a trembling hand to guide another fat stamen up to Henry's face, into his open mouth. "— we just keep going. For as long as somebody keeps us going." Then he let his head fall, staring up at the ceiling, stamen like squirming snakes coiling all over Henry's head.

Rok let out a kind of wheezing giggle. "Man, this isn't — isn't the best time to fuckin', explain troll biology, huh?" His hips ground against Henry's face, sloppy folds of unsheathed meat smearing across his neck, sticky and slick at the same time. "But uh, once I start —" and he gestured, reaching up with a trembling hand to guide another fat stamen up to Henry's face, into his open mouth, a gritty spurt of pollen oozing from the tip all across Henry's tongue. "— I'm just gonna keep going. As long as you keep at it." Then he let his head fall, staring up at the ceiling, stamen like squirming snakes coiling all over Henry's head. "Y'can stop whenever you want, but, fuck, at least go a little longer," Rok said, gushing again, the squirt of nectar erupting up from his ovary like it was a soda bottle being squeezed, a swampy heat splattering all across Henry's face, spilling down Rok's sides to soak the sheets.

So that went on for a while. Henry surrounded by a thick mess of squirming tentacles, spilling over the sides of his head, lazily looping around his neck. Anthers smearing him up and down with pollen, Rok's steady squirts of nectar soaking his head, streaming down his chest in sloppy rivers. The mess of his unfurled flower fluttered and shuddered, glue forming a tarry layer of sludge under the continual drool of nectar, pulse after pulse soaking the mattress until it oozed every time Henry shifted.

Eventually though they had to stop, just because there was only so long Henry could stay like that, sweaty and exhausted, mouth dusty from pollen, dazed and half-asleep almost resting on top of Rok's flower.

Rok ended up picking him up and carrying him down to the showers — the both of them completely bare-assed naked, Rok's flower still unfurled and drooling a slurry of ooze down his thighs — so they could basically hose off the worst of the mess, Rok having to flush out half-congealed beads of glue between his petals before the thing could retract into his body.

So that was... nice, though Henry couldn't really think clearly about it until after he crashed on Rok's bed and woken up most of a day later. All this fucking was gonna fuck up his GPA if he didn't get a better hold on it. On the other hand, waking up with Rok curled up around him, just surrounded by heat and the faint dampness of his warty trollhide... it was really nice.

* * *

So, later. Rok only used a _little_ toxin, the next time they fucked, and ended up leaving big handprint blotches of purple skin all across his sides and back, up his neck and then — and Henry didn't realize until he looked in a mirror and saw a big messy blotch all over his neck, spanning up across his cheek — face. There was definitely not gonna be any hiding what he'd been up to. But that was... nice. Rok was nice; the sex was nice. Travis absolutely knowing 100% he was up to some kinky stuff was kind of embarrassing, but whatever, Travis could go fuck off if he ever had a problem with it. Jerking off was a problem, just because of the _mess_ , but it turned out that when he had a big boyfriend who was entirely happy to jerk him off anytime he didn't actually need to jerk off like three times a day.

And, on further inspection, the big splotch covered one ear. His face was downright asymmetrical, although the giant handprint kind of drew all the attention from any lesser changes. But, Henry noticed his ear was definitely... pointed. More than a little: the tip drawn up, the outer rim of the shell thinner, fanning out more.

It was weird watching the markings fade, though — cock maybe shrinking down a tiny fraction of an inch, some of the finger-painted markings across his chest starting to turn grey and thin out, slowing fading back down to a dull brown. Well, a completely normal brown human skin tone, just 'dull' after no longer being brilliantly purple. And, to be entirely honest, Henry... liked having that. Wanted more. The only question was...

So: "Don't think humans have this," he said, tugging on his pointed ear. "You sure it's not, like... elves, goblins?"

"Wait, those aren't humans?" Rok looked over, fingers tugging on Henry's ear. "That looks normal to me."

"No!"

"You all kinda look the same. Short and shrimpy."

"Rude," Henry said and shoulder-checked Rok. It was like hitting a solid wall. He didn't even shake.

"I thought you were like, I dunno, a subspecies or something." Rok scratched up behind one ear. "You _sure_? I'm pretty sure some humans have pointed ears."

"Pretty sure."

"Oh well," Rok said, shrugging. "Close enough, right?"

"I guess." Henry paused. "I mean. Not that I don't like it. Actually, uh. About that. I was thinking, that uh. You have a lot more of that paint, right?"

"What, you want more?" Rok said, a little incredulously.

Henry's face felt burning hot, the dappled splotches of altered skin more — something. Hotter or distributing heat different, forming wavy lines of heat over his skin. He shifted on his feet, mumbling something.

"Nah, it's cool," Rok said, pulling him in with one of his lanky arms, letting Henry bury his head against his chest. "You got any ideas where I should put it? Or just go wild with some finger painting."

"Um." It was easier to say it without having to look at Rok's face. "My dick? Again. And. My ass. Maybe?"

Rok laughed a little, but not in a mean way, just a little incredulous. He leaned down, lips kissing a scraping pressure against his forehead, and then a clink as Rok picked up the jar of waxy paint, which he'd... left on one of the bedframes? Probably? And there was markedly less of it left than when — Okay, so, Henry absolutely hadn't been in a state to pay attention, but the jar was half-empty now, the waxy paint carved up with deep claw marks.

"I've, uh, actually been using it to jerk off," Rok admitted, following Henry's gaze. "You kinda— it was really hot. So. I've been thinking about it a lot."

"Oh." Henry could feel his flush burning all over his face. Rok was — the thought of Rok lying back, hands shoved into his flower, moaning and bucking and squirting all over as he thought about _him_ was... it was nice. And Rok's gaze on him now was that same feeling only so much more concentrated, heat crawling down his belly and feeding the heavy, throbbing weight of his trapped cock.

Anyway, then: Henry sprawled back, legs spread over Rok's thighs, jeans opened enough to let the enormous bulge of his cock sag out.

Rok reached down, huge hands fanning down Henry's stomach to get to the waist of his jeans. "So let's get these off," he said, thumb digging into the button, fingers cupping the bulge of Henry's cock. "Then I can get you all slimed up."

"Oh my god," Henry said, flushed again — still, but Rok just leered at him, sticking his tongue out and making an exaggerated face.

"It's gonna be real hot," Rok said. "I promise."

Henry squirmed out of his pants, having to carefully peel his cock and balls out, keeping his zipper well away from the huge swell of altered, wrecked flesh. But, well — probably he'd have to stop wearing jeans entirely, maybe. Get something with a lot more stretch. And then Rok got to work.

Rok wrapped his hand around Henry's cock — much, much more of a handful now than the first time — and stroked it up and down. His cock shuddered, lurching with strange muscles, slowly fattening into its new, enormous length. Rok tugged and squeezed, just letting it fatten and lengthen, creeping up Henry's stomach, becoming heavier and heavier as it filled with blood.

Rok twisted away, hands clattering on the jar, and turned back, chunky black ink scooped up in his talons. "Oh, hey," he said, fingers an inch from touching. "You get that this is probably gonna make this like, semi-permanent, right? Or at least you're not gonna have any kind of 'normal' cock for the next few years?" He did the finger-quotes; a pebble of toxin dropped from his claw and bounced off Henry's cock.

"Uh, yeah." Henry swallowed. "I got that." His cock actually gave a weird kick, squirming and lurching all up his chest as the thought sunk in.

"K, cool, just so you know." Rok's hand slid up his shaft, smearing toxin in clumps all over his skin. "You're gonna look great."

The toxin worked into his skin, starting up the same burning as before, hot and fiery across his shaft, the only difference was — Henry groaned, squirming, and something inside him clenched and squeezed, fluid sliding up the length of his cock before it erupted in a mess of grimy grey pre, splattered all across his heaving chest. The only difference was each touch across his cock made it spurt out shots of pre on the level of ounces. Henry sobbed against Rok's shoulder, humping his hand, paint toxin smearing across his already-gargantuan cock and leaving burning, sensitive streaks in its wake.

Change sunk into him, thick streams of heat converging and concentrating into blobs just under his skin, like beads trying to burst out. The prickling intensified, Henry letting out a shaking sob, as his flesh started to bulge out in erratic whorls and knobs, forming a messy, lopsided line of lumpy bristles along the underside of his cock, flushed a brilliant, ruddy purple. Rok cooed, fingers teasing the bristles, each one almost painfully sensitive, all of them in a line being rubbed and caressed — Henry whined, chest heaving, cock spurting and spurting until his chest was drenched in gummy pre, cock throbbing bigger and fatter and more grotesque with each heartbeat, still not anywhere close to coming, despite the overwhelming sensations pouring down off it as Rok kept working the toxin sludge into his altered flesh.

His cock shuddered and grew and grew and _grew_ , bristles going from nubby spikes to thick, heavy prongs to immense barbs, each one just as big as his entire cock had been before this, and then all in the spaces between them and under them his flesh bubbled up in stubby fat barbs, rasping against Rok's palm as he kept steadily stroking.

Henry fell back, lightheaded, cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. His shaft was thicker around than his _arm_ , arching up to span his chest, a mess of gristled bands of flesh, thick and heavy with enormous prongs. Henry gasped, each throb from his giant cock thrumming through him, an electric jolt that made his entire body convulse with it, gushes of pre that could fill a glass bursting out in clumpy and splattering all down his chest in a heavy, grimy weight.

Rok's fingers slid down — slowly easing Henry's cock down so it didn't crash down into him, the over-sized cockhead almost pressing against the underside of his jaw now — and moved to his balls, waxy fingers tugging them up, peeling them away from where they were half-glued to his thighs. He smeared more toxin all across his hands before taking hold of Henry's balls again, rubbing the stiff wax back and forth over his skin as the burn of it taking effect spread and soaked deeper, until his balls felt like hot coals, every lump and swollen outcropping outlined by the sharp, prickling pain.

Henry sobbed, the sensation too much, shuddering and convulsing in Rok's grip as his balls burned hotter and hotter.

It seemed like a completion of the change started the first time: Henry's lopsided balls, two cords hooked into each one, stretched and shifted and slowly split apart into four, like a cell dividing: each one growing fat and then slowly bulging out on its ends, internal flesh shifting to the ends as the central space thinned, until finally with a sensation like wet paper tearing the vestigial central flesh tore apart, balls jostling to find their new place in his over-packed sac. Rok crooned, fingers rubbing up against the firm flesh of his balls, pressing down hard enough Henry squirmed. That was hardly the _end_ of it; each of his four balls kept bulking up, each of them by this point just... a lopsided mess of dense tissue.

Rok pressed a finger down, and there was an alien sensation: the flesh of his ball squeezing and deforming, a dense shot of jelly-like ooze bulging up a half-inch through the cords in a sudden lurch — but after that, Henry realized he could _feel_ his balls pump, a strange almost tickling crawling within the dense, convolved flesh of his balls, up through the cords hooked through them, flowing so slow it seemed like it would take days to make it all the way through the thick switchback loops packed into his sac before finally being sucked up into his body cavity. It felt like being an anatomical diagram, able to figure out exactly how his new biology worked just by feeling it, all his glands and tubes and veins so over-sized he could feel the path each one took through his altered flesh.

Rok had to pry his hands between the lumpy mass of Henry's balls and his thighs, working carefully to smear every inch of his bloated, inhuman ballsac with toxin, again and again. Forget fist-sized, each one of his balls was the size of _two_ ; his sac bulging and lopsided, a huge mess of furrowing flesh that kept them all churning up and down, a giant weight bigger than his head — considerably — stuck between his thighs. His flesh was leathery, furrowing into ridges and troughs as big as Rok's huge fingers, bulging and bloating out randomly to make space for the gnarled lumps of his balls.

"Think you're ready for your ass?" Rok said, at some point later, once Henry's balls had been utterly ruined, their dense flesh a mess of furls and bulges, bloated nearly to bursting; the cords and tubes hooked into them all lumpy and lopsided, slowly pumping tar-thick ooze up into his body. Henry just sobbed and wordlessly nodded, thighs spasming as he tried to lift his legs. Rok did it for him, wrapping his toxin-slick fingers around Henry's ankles and raising his legs up across his chest, hands slowly wrapping around the inhuman bulk of his balls, lifting them to drape across Henry's hip, so he had clear access to Henry's ass.

Rok's fingers slid up across his taint, the buried root of his overgrown cock making it swell enormously fat behind his balls. Rok tapped against his flesh, impact resonating up inside him like a glass being chimed.

Henry found himself splayed across the mattress, face buried into it, groaning. "Shove it in my ass," he groaned, grinding his ass back against Rok's fingers, toxin-slathered fingers running lightly up and down his crack, each touch sending flecks of heat burrowing into his skin. "Please. Please!" He found himself hoarse, sobbing, gasping with every touch.

"Easy," Rok said, or maybe he just said something with that kind of intonation, hand gripping Henry's hip as his fingers focused on the ring of his asshole, swirling around and smearing it thickly with ooze. It burned, stinging, and Henry clenched, hole convulsing. Rok shoved inside, working his fingertips back and forth, slathering more and more toxin across his hand and smearing it up across his fingers, absolutely soaking Henry's asshole, stiff crests and peaks of toxin stuck to the flesh of his hole, burning hotter and hotter as it sunk into him.

Henry groaned, a long exhale, rutting back, fucking himself on Rok's huge fingers, smearing him inside and out with burning toxin. This time it went faster: his hole swelled, hot pinpricks spreading all over, flushed skin rising up in wrinkled folds until the bloat became too much and his hole simply folded over itself, huge lumpy swells of aching flesh stretched taut. Rok ran his thumb over his rim, two fingers inside, the rest curled up against his palm. But slowly Rok fed his third and then fourth finger inside, one at a time, sliding them up against his fingers and slowly spreading them, working the new heft of Henry's hole back and forth. Rok let his hole squeeze down, puckering up into a huge puffy swell bulging out between his cheeks, and then pried his fingers against it, spreading it until it gaped, sliding his toxin-slick fingers back and forth, digging deeper inside to hurry the change further inside.

"Oh yeah," Rok groaned, four fingers jammed into Henry's ass, slowly spreading them. His ring _gaped_ , altered flesh clenching and clenching and still stretching more, distending in a big rubbery arc, taut little catenoids curving between each of his fingers, flesh visibly pulsing with his heartbeat, shuddering against Rok's fingers. He slid his thumb back and forth, flesh like well-worked dough: sinking down to form a perfect thumbprint, springing back over the next second. "You're taking this so well."

"You think I could—" Rok cut himself off, whining again as he stared down at Henry's gaping ass. "You think I could fuck you?" The bud of his flower was already out, grinding in little shuddery jerks and starts against Henry's thigh, glue catching on his leg hair.

" _Please_ ," Henry sobbed, shoving back, letting out a broken sob as his ass swallowed up Rok's entire hand with a lurch.

Rok worked his hand back and forth, enormous hand digging deeply between Henry's cheeks, slurping inside him with a wet pop, only slowly disgorging his hand when he pulled back, his enormously puffy lips pouting, folded over themselves in rubbery swells. Rok played with Henry's ass, grinding his unfurling flower against Henry's thigh, runnels of glue sticking them together in jerks, catching and then jolting free when he bore down harder.

Rok pulled his hand out, fingertips spreading Henry's hole wide, and eased his flower forward, its unfurled meat dragging across Henry's back and thighs, glue smearing in sticky lines as he tried to line himself up. Henry's anatomy just wasn't made for it; Rok's petals slid across his sweaty skin, seal half-formed fanning across his lower back and hips, ooze trailing down his thighs to soak the mattress below. Rok groaned, hand reaching for the lower petals of his flower, patting them up against Henry's thighs, pressing his glue-soaked folds against Henry's skin until they stuck. Ironing out the folds, reaching up between Henry's legs to plaster his petals against Henry's bulging taint and the base of his balls, fanning out awkwardly past that, half-pinning his cock to his stomach.

Rok jerked forward, obscene gurgles and squelches coming from the half-sealed mess of his flower, meaty flesh pulsing slowly, petals gathering into tighter folds, glue overflowing the edges of his petals, flowing in thick, sluggish lines over Henry's thighs. Inside the seal, his anthers squirmed, slapping wetly across Henry's cheeks, squirming as they tried to find a matching ovary that Henry just didn't have. But his asshole — it was swollen, flesh engorged, the rim practically folded over itself after Rok got finished soaking it in toxin, and that was close enough. His anthers squirmed over the slope of his cheek, leaving streaks of dusty pollen that turned into a layer of thick gunk as it soaked into the sweat and slime coating his skin.

It was almost as if Rok was pulled forward by his anthers: fat tips finally finding Henry's gaping hole and squirming inside, drawing taut, and hooked inside Henry's ass Rok sunk forward, leaning in, the bulb of his flower shuddering and squirming as he thrust forward, the coke-bottle girth of his ovary digging between Henry's cheeks. His petals felt like a thousand fingers all squirming over Henry's skin, nearly glued down now, just a wave of pulsing touch that swept across the edge of the flower, motion rippling inwards over and over as they sealed together as well as they could.

There was a sloppy squelching coming from inside the flower as Rok ground forward, ooze splattering all across Henry's ass, trickling down to start to pool against his thighs, wet waves of sludge pouring from Rok's ovary as he ground the thick lip against Henry's hole, anthers squirming up inside him, shedding pollen like mad, thick goo soaking the flesh of his inner ass.

Henry breathed, trying to keep it regular, as Rok's anthers probed inside him, another and another and another spilling out to their full length inside him, digging deeper into his guts and — eventually — bulging his stomach, forming a slowly-stirring swell above his hips.

Rok was — boy was he out of it, hunched over Henry and whining, whimpering, gasping, mumbling little fragments — "yes, please, Henry, good, fuck," mixed in with unintelligible grunting and globbering that was probably Troll.

Rok gasped and groaned, wrapping his hands around Henry's waist, the entire way around, and tugged him backwards, grinding one side of his unfurled flower down and then the other, sealing it solidly to Henry's sweaty flesh. His anthers shuddered, rippling inside Henry's ass, not thrusting so much as unfurling; spreading deeper. His ovary shuddered again, squirting a huge gush of nectar against Henry's gaping hole, most of it pouring inside, the rest streaming down the inner flesh of Rok's bulb and puddling at the bottom, mostly-sealed inside; stringy dribbles oozed out over the rim wherever it wasn't quite solidly sealed.

Henry groaned, pinned to the bed by Rok's bulk, ass — stretching and stretching and stretching against Rok's slow thrusts, inexorable like rock, just a constant pressure bearing down inside him. Rok's ovary squirted again, a pulse of nectar bursting into Henry's ass, gurgling and sloshing, shockingly hot, and Henry whined, letting out a reedy moan. Rok moaned too, a low grumbling that was more felt than heard, buzzing across Henry's skin everywhere they were joined.

Sloppy glue stuck to the cheeks of Henry's ass, catching and slipping when Rok moved only to catch again, folds and petals of Rok's flower stuck to his flesh as Rok kept up his slow, rolling thrusts. Henry's guts gurgled, a messy slop of pollen and nectar flooding him in sluggish waves; Rok sunk down, lying half-beside Henry on the mattresses, grinding his ovary that much deeper, the sudden gushes of nectar evening out to a steady pulse.

Rok whined, something like a roar, and ground forward, the sloppy stick of his petals forming a solid ring all across Henry's hips. "Oh fuck, oh fuck." Rok's voice was unlike Henry had ever heard it, warbling and sharp, almost desperate. Huge hands pressed against his sides, Rok pressing his hands across the furl of his flower, sealing it to Henry's skin. Glue burbled at the edges, never dripping far before it hardened, as Rok felt across the mess of their joined bodies, hands pressing everywhere he found a weak seal, until —

The slopping mess inside the bulb hit the level of Rok's ovary, and suddenly the flow reversed: each sluggish spasm of Rok's ovary shoved ooze back into Henry's ass, mixing with the nectar and pollen already inside him. Rok went entirely boneless on top of him, pinning Henry to the bed, just panting as he started flooding Henry's guts, each slow pulse forcing a gush of slime inside him, bulb straining and packed tight.

"Man, roll over," Henry gasped out, knocking against Rok's shoulder, and he lurched to the side, carrying Henry with him, so they were sprawled out on their sides, Rok pressed all up and down Henry's back.

Rok mumbled more, pressing drooling kisses across Henry's shoulders and head, hands fanning out from the huge bulge of their bulb, tracing across Henry's thighs to get to his cock, pressed up tight against his gigantically-swollen stomach, stroking him slowly. The bulges across his gut shifted, cords of anthers inside him twisting up and down. They both groaned.

Henry lay there panting, guts churning from Rok's unending spurts. The ovary was flush inside him, anthers squirming up in his guts, pollen oozing back down as a thick paste, thinned by the continual squirts of nectar Rok was gushing inside him, all the ooze seeping slowly out around the huge coke-bottle swell of Rok's ovary — but now there was nowhere for it to go, thick slime flooding Rok's flower, a huge ocean of fluid lapping higher and higher up his thighs, Rok's flower starting to stretch out into a bulb. Rok groaned again, ovary pulsing, the slop of nectar flooding Henry's ass and pouring back down, sloshing inside the bulb, a weird wet weight pressed against the backs of Henry's thighs, slopping up across the cheeks of his ass when Rok bore down, the continual mess oozing from Henry's adding more and more.

Rok laughed a little, dazed, hand streaking down Henry's belly and pushing back against it, cupping the slopping, straining heft of his own anthers, feeling it slowly even out into a broader well as he kept pumping more and more thick nectar into Henry, guts gurgling, clotted masses of pollen slowly dissolving, turning the fluid into a tarry ooze as it flooded higher and higher inside him. Rok, at least, seemed content to lie there, his ovary steadily pumping, a steady flow of nectar pouring into him without any sign of stopping.

Over minutes, the bulges slowly evened out. Rok pumped more thick nectar into him, more and more. Henry's guts gurgled, clotted masses of pollen slowly dissolving, turning the fluid into a tarry ooze as it flooded higher and higher inside him. Rok stared over Henry's shoulder, watching. "Fuck, that's hot," he mumbled, kissing Henry's pointed ear.

His gut ached, the flesh of his belly drawn painfully tight, each pump of nectar making his entire body slosh. Henry panted shallowly, the pressure increasing and increasing until there was a sudden rubbery jolt, _spangs_ resonating through his entire body — and rippling gut — as his altered flesh gave a fraction further, shredding open in wide stretch marks, letting his gut swell that much more.

Henry was dimly aware of Rok's hands on his hips, dragging him up, shifting him so his ovary shoved flush against the blown ring of his ass, ring squeezing down against it. Each squeeze pumped sludgy nectar higher into his guts, in thick, sludgy bursts. Heat billowed up his front, dripping down over his swollen gut, and he found himself aware that he was groaning and sobbing, thrusting into Rok's hands, aware just of — _howling_ , sobbing, his comeshot like a bucket of hot water splashed all across his front, like a lightning bolt slammed right into him, busy arcing back and forth through his cock.

Henry went limp, aware of his painfully swollen gut sloshing. His skin stung, the tarry mess of his load burning where his skin had been shredded; something like stretch marks only a hundred times as fast: big war stripes all across his hips and stomach and chest, each one perfectly outlined by the burning sting as his chunky come poured down his chest in waves.

Rok ground deeper, the coke-bottle-girth of his ovary slipping into Henry's altered ass, wet petals of flesh clenching and unfurling against his ass cheeks, the huge swell of his ovary sinking further and further into his ass until it was pressed flush against him, Rok's bony hips pressed flush against him — or as flush as they could get, with the prolapsed meat of his flower plastered all up and down his ass. Anthers were squirming up in his guts, pollen oozing back down as a thick paste, thinned by the continual squirts of nectar Rok was gushing inside him, all the ooze seeping slowly out around the huge swell of Rok's ovary — but there was nowhere for it to go, thick slime flooding Rok's flower, a huge ocean of fluid lapping higher and higher up his thighs, Rok's flower starting to stretch out into a bulb.

Rok groaned, ovary pulsing three times sharply, pumping out a heavier and heavier flood of nectar, pouring into Henry's ass only to slop right back out again and slosh inside the rapidly-swelling bulb between them. It didn't take long for the mess of nectar and dissolved pollen to flood the bulb to the level of Rok's ovary, wedged in Henry's ass, and suddenly the flow reversed: each sluggish spasm of Rok's ovary shoved the ooze back into Henry's ass, mixing with the nectar and pollen already inside him. Rok went entirely boneless on top of him, just panting as he started flooding Henry's guts, each slow pulse forcing a gush of slime inside him. Rok's anthers moved with the flow, squirming deeper inside him, their lengths curling and brushing across his inner walls, leaving weird half-felt blobs and clusters of half-dissolved pollen.

Rok hummed, a clatter somewhere to the side as he reached out, chest stretching pressed against Henry's back, and then his hand came back to Henry's gut, smearing something cool through the mess of come. Henry whined, even that faint pressure making him feel like he was gonna burst apart. His burning stretch marks seamed wider, fresh toxin smeared all over them, letting his gut swell enough to relieve some of the pressure, only to slowly build up again as Rok just kept drooling tarry pollen and sloppy nectar inside him.

Eventually: "Hey," Henry said, reedy and flushed all splotchy, chest painted in crusted, half-dried layers of toxin and his own come, pinned to the bed by his own overstuffed guts just as much as Rok sprawled across his side. "When d'you think you're gonna be done?" He wasn't asking to hurry it up, really, just... to have a data point.

"Hmm," Rok groaned, hips mashing against Henry's back, glue smearing between them. "When's your next class?"

"It's, uh, Thursday? Right? No classes today, but — ungh!" Henry groaned as Rok let out a particularly strong gush, nectar squirting hard inside him, currents seeming to perfectly outline his flooded and straining guts. "But morning Friday, that's Calc II."

"Oh, yeah..." Rok nuzzled Henry's neck. "We could probably be done by tomorrow morning."


End file.
